Sorcerors Endgame
by Penpusher
Summary: !!FINAL CHAPTER POSTED!! H/G on an exotic paradise island, Draco plots revenge, R/H make some big decisions, major angst and romance for Fred, and Oliver finally gets a life! What more could you want in a story? THAT'S ALL FOLKS!!
1. Prologue

Sorcerors' Endgame Prologue

It's great to be back after a lo-o-ong break.The title of this little scribble is taken from the excellent David Eddings "Belgariad".I just thought it fitted.If anyone can translate the Malfoy family motto into latin for me, I'll put it in.My Latin grammar is so rusty that I'm bound to get it wrong!

**Sorcerors' Endgame** A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Penpusher Sequel to "By the Pricking of My Thumbs"  **Prologue**

A green flash, laser-thin, shot through the air to impact on something soft at approximately floor level.A cry of pain followed by muffled groans elicited a high-pitched laugh from the figure standing by the desk.Giggling uncontrollably, he raised his wand to rain a volley of identical attacks in the same direction, almost jumping up and down in glee at the resulting howls of torment.With a flourish, he took aim once again.

"_Crucio!"_ he declaimed triumphantly, eyes afire with unholy delight as his victim writhed in unspeakable agony.The anguished screams were getting quieter, the vocal chords raw and lacerated.Abruptly there was silence. The torturer, his manic grin fading into uncertainty, repeated his Curse.In the firelight a shapeless lump jerked once as the magic hit home, but was otherwise ominously still.

"Fool!" Snarled a new voice, harsh and angry.A third person rose swiftly from behind the desk and strode over to the prone figure sprawled on the exquisite Chinese silk rug.He kicked it indifferently in the ribs.It remained motionless.

"You are just as incompetent at torture as you are at everything else!"

"I'm certain he isn't dead, sir, just unconscious."The voice was oily and uncertain, the face flabby, pale-eyed beneath a thinning head of grey hair.

"Of course he isn't dead!You're not even adept enough to kill him.The essence of torture is control: assessing the victim's pain threshold and keeping the level just below unconsciousness.It is an art – an art in which you have absolutely no ability, just like everything else!"The man was virtually spitting with rage by this time.He waved a negligent arm.

"Have him put in the dungeon.The East Wing.Nothing but the highest security for this one - he was a very able and promising student at one time.And, of course, blood will always out."He sighed and sat back in his chair, smoothing his silver hair gently."After all, he spent more than twenty years in my house, under my instruction."He sighed then added almost inaudibly, "As my son."The other had not heard, he was issuing instructions for the removal of his handwork from the library.The silver-haired man sighed again then opened an inlaid mahogany cabinet and proceeded to pour himself a substantial drink.The other, having followed his orders, hovered nervously in the shadows by the doorway until the silver-haired man waved him away irritably.

"Are you still here?Get out of my sight – I've endured enough of your dismal ineptitude for one day.It defeats me how you ever managed to train as a wizard in the first place, let alone become an Animagus.Away!Don't taunt me with your uselessness.You're a constant reminder of how difficult it is to get good help these days.Take your miserable hide out of my sight and keep it there until I summon you.And stay away from the East Wing dungeon.When he wakes, I'll deal with him, and perhaps then you might learn a thing or two about torture – from an artist."

Wide-eyed, the balding man fled the library, wiping sweating palms on the seat of his trousers.For a long while his superior sat motionless at his desk, gazing unseeingly at the blotter.Eventually he reached for his untouched drink, twirling the amber liquid around the glass thoughtfully.The light from the dying fire caught on a carefully fashioned device etched into the glass and the man sighed.He knew its design so well he could have sketched the crest in its entirety on the blotter without a moment's thought.And the motto "Ambition is the mother of power", in Latin of course, had been the mantra which had dominated the entirety of his adult life.He had done his duty: married well, maintained the family honour, produced an heir to continue the family line.Making a sound of disgust, he drained the glass at one gulp and crashed it down forcefully on the desk.He crossed to the door in three impatient strides, slamming it forcefully after him.The contents of the desk trembled in the aftershock and the glass, already unsteadily poised, tipped over, spilling its dregs over the neat stack of writing paper.The liquid soaked into the letterhead, blurring the title: "Lucius Malfoy Esq."

~oo0oo~

Draco Malfoy came to slowly and painfully.He felt like he'd been on a three-day bender with the Bulgarian International Quidditch team, then comprehensively stomped on by a herd of mastodons.Come to think of it, that amounted to the same thing, didn't it?Gods, his head ached.It seemed like several days later, when he'd managed to drag his eyelids open, it registered that he was lying in a sprawled puddle at the far corner of a damp, dirty and extremely smelly basement.Further examination of the bars on the windows and the heavy iron door led him to revise that conclusion.This was, in fact, a dungeon.To be precise, _his_ dungeon, in _his_ house.At least, it used to be his house.Draco sighed.By his calculations, he was in the East Wing.That fact alone made the chances of escape more or less negligible, although he could pass some time prowling around to make sure.Just as soon as his legs agreed to hold him up, that is.How in hell had he managed to get into this situation anyway?

Draco fell back against the wall and let his mind travel backwards.It wasn't that he had expected to get off scot free for allowing Ginny Weasley to slip through his fingers.He knew he was due for some pretty serious punishment – Lucius didn't tolerate failure – but he hadn't bargained for Veritaserum.Something in Draco's explanation, his words, his demeanour, had obviously set Lucius's suspicious antennae twitching, and he had chosen to use the truth drug rather than accept Draco's word.However, he had never seen his father so overcome with shock as when the real truth of the matter was forced out of his son's own mouth.Initially, this numb disbelief had proved to be Draco's salvation: Lucius had been careless and Draco had escaped.However, he had not been functioning on all four cylinders and had left a trail as wide as Hogwarts Lake.It had only been a few months before Lucius's minions had caught up with him.Macnair had actually made the capture – Draco's face burned with humiliation at the memory.This was a Malfoy lackey whose contract he would take great pleasure in terminating – with extreme prejudice.

The pain of his injuries and the effects of starvation and thirst made Draco light-headed.His mind wandered into unfamiliar territory, dogged by memories he wanted to suppress.That moment of weakness on the brink of achieving something no other Dark Wizard, including you-know-who, had been able to accomplish – to seriously damage, perhaps destroy, the famous Harry Potter.He called himself every name he could think of – why had he been so weak?His father would have revelled in the experience, would have viewed the girl's coercion as arousing, her helplessness exciting.Just as he would take a twisted pleasure from his next task.Draco knew he had no future, he was facing little more than slow torture and death.He had already given Lucius every scrap of information that might prove useful, and a good deal that would not.He was an empty husk, drained, bled dry, useless now except for the entertainment of watching him die.

Draco had no illusions about his father's regard.His mother, Narcissa, had been a career wife: beautiful, educated, willing to tolerate an arranged marriage for the sake of money and status.She had been unaware of her husband's cruel, sadistic streak until Draco was born.Draco himself had been conceived purely out of duty because the Malfoy family needed an heir.However, after Draco's birth, Lucius no longer felt it necessary to conceal his true nature from his wife.Instead he used the young boy as a lever to ensure Narcissa's obedience to his every whim.Draco was a very observant child and grew up believing this to be both normal and acceptable.He had very few memories of his mother.After her death, he deliberately suppressed them, scorning her for her weakness and her lack of the true "Malfoy spirit".Lucius hardly paid lip-service to her memory.His father had been discreet, but Draco had always been wired for sound and had learned very early on, even before his mother's death, that there were many other women in Lucius's life.Narcissa slipped quietly away: Draco himself was the only concrete reminder that she had existed at all.

Unaware that he had slept, Draco was aroused by a scratching at the prison door.The key was turned and the door swung open on its hinges to reveal a strange stooping figure carrying a tray.Draco let out an unsteady breath and consciously relaxed muscles tight with anticipation.He watched the House Elf diffidently approach him and nerved himself to sit up, registering as he did so the chains on his wrists and ankles.The pain was not as great as he had anticipated, but he felt as weak as a kitten.The House Elf put down the tray without raising its eyes, then, before he could blink, it shot a bolt of silver sparks from its fingertip directly at the chains around his wrists.Draco opened his mouth in surprise, but the House Elf raised its head, a finger over its lips.It turned back to its task, opening the shackles on his ankles without destroying the chains themselves.It then gestured urgently towards the tray, lowered its hood and made as if to leave.

"Why are you helping me?" Draco's question was so quiet as to be almost inaudible.He shook his head.This was impossible.There was no one at Malfoy Manor who would give him a glass of water if he was on fire, and his reputation with House Elves was far from good.The Elf paused then lifted its hood once more.

"The mistress says 'All debts are now paid'.That is all I is saying.I must go now."The House Elf scuttled quickly away.Draco stared after it, something niggling at the back of his mind.He shrugged, sat up – more comfortably now without the chains – and investigated the tray.Bread, a slab of reasonable-looking cheese, a pitcher of water.He looked for a knife to cut the cheese and his fingers curled round something slim and wooden.Feeling his fingertips tingle at the contact, Draco's thin lips curved into a smile.His wand!Now he had a fighting chance to escape.It would be difficult, but suddenly hope came flooding back.He broke off some of the break and took a long drink from the pitcher of water.A frown spread across his forehead._Why did the House Elf help me?Who sent it?_A faint wisp of memory chased its own tail for a while, and finally broke through to the surface._Dobby._ He affirmed silently. _And the mistress?Well, I think I can risk a guess who that is.So all debts are paid are they?_He shook his head, smiling enigmatically._We'll see about that_.

~oo0oo~

"Bring him in."The bald-headed man scuttled quickly out of the library, returning moments later pushing a suitably battered and chained Draco before him.One particularly spiteful shove sent Draco sprawling bonelessly forward onto the Chinese rug, smearing it liberally with nameless filth from the dungeon floor.

"Get on your feet, you worthless piece of excrement!"Lucius was already beside himself with impatience.Draco allowed himself an inner smile: Dad was losing it already, and he hadn't even started.It took him three attempts to lever himself off the floor, and each effort ground more and more dirt into the pastel silk.In actual fact, Draco had made good use of his time in the dungeon.The bread and water had, of course, saved his life, giving him the energy to perform healing spells for his considerable hurts and to provide the wherewithal for a comfortable night's sleep.The wand he had hidden in the emergency sleeve sheath, one of which he ensured had been sewn into every shirt he owned.Draco smiled: the clothes he was wearing might be filthy, torn, smelly and disgusting, but at least they were his own.

Lucius rose slowly from his desk, gradually bringing his temper under control.Gradually and with the utmost care, he removed his cufflinks and began to roll the sleeves of his immaculate bespoke robes to his elbows, taking his time, prolonging the expectancy.The bald-headed man was watching with barely concealed excitement, tongue darting rapidly over his lips as he eagerly anticipated the promised demonstration.Draco glanced briefly at him and felt the first stirrings of nausea: now he remembered why he had been revolted by Peter Pettigrew from the very beginning.

"Now, Wormtail." Began Lucius, silently sliding open a desk drawer and removing his wand. "The promised demonstration.I told you torture was an art form, and indeed it is – one that must be carefully prepared and meticulously studied before the practitioner can be truly effective.I studied with a master of the art – my father, who you never knew.That fact is, of course, very fortunate for you.He would never have tolerated a feeble, useless wretch like you as a servant, but then," Lucius sighed in an exaggerated fashion, "He always did accuse me of being too soft."For the first time his eyes lit upon Draco, hard as flint and just as unyielding.Draco flinched visibly.

"Father," he began, swallowing convulsively.Lucius sent a sudden bolt of fire into the rug at Draco's feet, obviously having written off the antique carpetwork as beyond salvage.

"I have disowned you." Lucius hissed savagely, "You are no longer my son, you are no longer a Malfoy.You are _nothing!_Just a piece of dirt, a miserable, snivelling vermin, a failure and a turncoat."Draco looked terrified.

"But I did my best …"

"If that is your best, then the Dark Forces are well rid of you!" Lucius snapped back."You are worthy of nothing better than the _Avada_ curse."He raised his wand.Draco's drew in a sudden breath, preparing to duck, but Pettigrew could not contain himself.

"Oh, go on, sir!" he chuckled evilly, clutching Lucius's left elbow in his excitement.Lucius glared down at Pettigrew's hand as though it had leprosy.He shook him off violently and leaned over him, glowering in fury.Pettigrew cringed.

"If you ever lay a hand on me again …" rumbled Lucius, leaving the threat unspoken.He turned back to Draco.

"But Father, one mistake – just one!"Draco was trying again.Lucius took an infuriated step towards his son.

"One mistake?_One_ mistake?!" he shouted."If it were only that, perhaps something could be salvaged._But you were always a disappointment, Draco, never the Dark Wizard you should have been!"_

"But why?How did I disappoint you so badly?" Draco was shaking his head in confusion.

"_Why?_How?" Lucius was starting to pace around in his agitation. "No family of any status in the wizarding world has had to endure such a pathetic failure as a son and heir.You disappointed me at Hogwarts, you were hopelessly inept as a post-graduate, the rank you finally achieved was so low as to be a disgrace to the name of Malfoy.My influence wasn't enough – even that couldn't redeem you.Crabbe and Goyle, brainless as they are, at least produced biddable canon fodder.My only son and heir couldn't even be classed as that!Why even your useless sister would have …"Draco's eyes shot wide open.

"My sister?What about her?"But Lucius had turned away and was walking back to the desk.Draco straightened up, all thoughts of escape forgotten.

"Father, look at me." his voice held an unmistakeable ring of command.Reluctantly, Lucius turned to face Draco, his face stained a dull red.

"I shouldn't have said that." he admitted, avoiding his son's eyes.Draco felt his muscles tensing, his breathing quickening.It had to be soon.

"Lucius." He said calmly, coldly. "What about Aurora?What have you been hiding from me all these years?"Lucius struggled, his face working.

"Silence!" he bellowed, then with a roar he drew his left hand back and struck Draco hard across the head.This was the opening Draco had been waiting for.Watching his father's body language, he predicted the blow and moved to avoid it.He was not totally successful, but at least he maintained his footing.The heavy iron chain fell away from his legs, but he held on to the one between his wrists.With a nimbleness at odds with his injured exterior, he kicked the wand from his father's right hand while freeing his own from the sleeve sheath.He pointed it straight at Lucius.

"_Stupefy!"_ he shouted, simultaneously swinging the chain in an arc until it wrapped itself firmly around Pettigrew's neck.Pettigrew gave a horrified gurgle and snatched at the chain with both hands, his eyes starting out of his head.Draco took the opportunity to connect his right foot hard against Pettigrew's groin, grimacing in satisfaction at the resulting shriek of agony.Lucius crashed headlong onto the abused Chinese carpet like a fallen tree.Pettigrew grovelled, scrabbling at his master's feet, paralysed with pain and vomiting helplessly.Draco shook his head, looking indifferently at the tableau before him._That carpet has to be a write-off, _he thought, then stunned Pettigrew too, for good measure.He stood for a moment regaining his breath and listening for the sound of reinforcements before once more aiming his wand at the two prone figures.

"_Astringo!"_ he muttered."Nothing like both belt _and _braces."Cords flew out of his wand, trussing them quickly and efficiently.He then moved to the door, opening it slowly and carefully.Nothing.Apparently the cavalry were on holiday.Draco stood hesitating.In all honesty, he had not expected to get this far.He now had no idea what to do next.Brain working in overdrive, he moved quickly to the desk, selected a pen and a stack of headed paper and began to write: he had to buy himself as much time and freedom of movement as possible, and chaos within the Malfoy empire would achieve both of those things.

Thirty minutes later saw Draco, having sent off the last of the owls, showered, newly attired in his own clean clothes and carrying a backpack containing a number of useful items, most of which were not his own.He stood in the library surveying the unconscious forms of the two wizards, deep in thought.His eyes flickered over to the desk.Moving over to it, he began to take it carefully apart, destroying documents, throwing items apparently at random into the fire.Methodically, he searched it for hidden drawers and, finding two, examined the contents, burning what he did not transfer to his own backpack.Finally he stood up holding one small item between finger and thumb: the Malfoy seal.Tossing it up to the ceiling, he caught it in the palm of his hand and pocketed it with a smile.

"Finders keepers." He said quietly, and left the library without a backward glance.Five minutes later he was astride a Nimbus 2000 stolen from the house collection, arrowing his way through the clouds, a very thoughtful expression on his face.Draco Malfoy had made up his mind where he was going – at least for a while.


	2. In the Midst of Life

Chapter One: "In the Midst of Life"

**Anyone who is attempting this tale without firstly having read the two previous stories, do not despair.This chapter will make most things clear, although it will also introduce new and important information and events, not to mention character development.As is my custom, I will be using quotations for some of the chapter titles.A chocolate frog to anyone who correctly identifies their provenance.Thanks a million to all who reviewed the Prologue, particularly maidmarian62 and violet who must have broken all records – their reviews came in within hours of posting!**

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Disclaimer:_This story is written for the purposes of my own amusement and, hopefully, that of my readers, and no profit of any kind is being generated by it or by either of its prequels.All characters and history belong to J.K. Rowling and to whosoever she has licensed her creations at the present time.I own the plot and the odd original character, nothing else._

**Sorcerors' Endgame** A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Penpusher Sequel to "By the Pricking of My Thumbs" 

**Chapter One: "In the Midst of Life****"**

Arthur Weasley vaguely mouthed the words of an apparently well-known hymn, glancing around the congregation with a practised eye.To his left, Molly unconsciously smoothed a wrinkle from her sleeve.He smiled proudly: she looked suitably non-magical and really quite at ease in her sombre muggle get up.Which was more than he could say for himself, he thought, surreptitiously tugging at his black tie for the umpteenth time that morning.Muggle clothes really were the pits, particularly on official occasions.

All in all, it was a very good turnout, both wizards and muggles.The magical folk had been obliged to toe the party line generally for this solemn occasion as the church was peppered with muggle press and the coverage would likely reach the national muggle news.He sighed.It had scarcely been sudden and was not at all unexpected, but Cornelius Fudge's death had ended an era for all of them.Sir Cornelius actually – he had been knighted in the last Honours List, but had been too ill to attend the ceremony.Lady Fudge had been his proxy.Arthur's eyes drifted towards the widow in the front pew, correct in deep mourning, stiff-backed and stony-faced.Her two sons stood closely either side of her, and she was accompanied by a few relatives, some close colleagues from the Ministry of Magic, and Tantalus Brown.Arthur clamped his jaw tightly and looked away.Over his years at the Ministry, he had learned discretion, how to govern by persuasion rather than fiat, how to conceal one's true feelings, and how to sideline unwanted interference.Unfortunately, Tantalus Brown was the first in a long career to irritate him so badly that all his carefully won diplomacy promptly jumped ship and headed for the hills.And Brown just happened to be his superior.

Arthur put those thoughts firmly aside and glanced about him, catching a glimpse of long, eye-catchingly red hair.He smiled tenderly as he recognised his daughter, Ginny, and her partner, Harry Potter.They made a very attractive couple, he mused, and their respective talents in a wide range of areas made the partnership a very valuable one to the wizarding world.They were at present investigating the ramifications of their strange magical bond, a potentially devastating mind-meld which seemed to spring directly from the strength of their attachment.Its manifestation had caused much consternation among the ranks of the ungodly.His forehead creased in a small frown as he recalled the events of the past few days.

~oo0oo~

Harry placed his wand carefully on the table and for a brief moment, rested his forehead in his hands.Ginny sat motionless, gazing at the floor, biting her lip apprehensively.Arthur mentally braced himself for Harry's explosion.

"It's no good, we're just not going to be able to trigger it this way."Harry started to pace the floor gesticulating wildly with his hands.

"Look, this mind-bond thing has locked into place between Ginny and myself precisely three times, and on those occasions without exception we, or someone else close to us, were in considerable danger.Now, I don't pretend to have either the abilities or the detailed knowledge that you gentleman possess, but, for the wisdom of Merlin, it doesn't need a genius to put two and two together and come up with four!"He glared at the assortment of experts assembled from various parts of the globe, ran an exasperated hand through his unruly hair and turned away with a sigh of disgust.There was a short silence, then Harry turned back to face his colleagues.

"We can't force it into place by willpower alone." he continued more calmly, "We have to find another way."

The others present in the Ministry Laboratory exchanged glances.One or two shuffled their feet in embarrassment.

"It is difficult." a quiet voice began. "No one here present has any concrete knowledge of magical mind-bonding between wizards.In fact, were it not for the shadows of these incidents in your minds, I could be forgiven for doubting the existence of such a phenomenon.In all my researches, I have never come across any reference to this ability, nor have I encountered anyone with such knowledge."The softly-spoken Chinese Dr. Lim was attempting to lower the temperature of the meeting.

"Except the Dark Side," added Dr. Galen, the Ministry's own expert, "We have it from their agents that bonding has been known to occur before between Dark Wizards.Indeed, the great Merlin himself was unwillingly bonded with the Dark Witch, Morgan le Fey, but we can discover nothing further from our archives, just the bare facts.It's very frustrating."

"Perhaps there is conflict between the parties." Dr. Petrucci now entered the discussion.Arthur had never met anyone who looked less like an academic.An olive-skinned, smouldering Latin-lover type, Petrucci's languid good looks concealed a first-class brain and a habit of speaking his mind."Perhaps neither of you will submit to the other's will."There was a short, awkward silence.Arthur winced: it had not escaped his notice that Petrucci's roving eye had lit once or twice upon his pretty daughter, and Ginny's almost contemptuous disregard of his advances had not earned her any Brownie points with the Italian wizard.Ginny spoke for the first time.

"Draco Malfoy …" she swallowed, then began again, "He told me the Dark Forces considered it unlikely that we would succeed in a full bonding because of my volatile temperament."Harry whirled round in dismay and took hold of her shoulders.

"Oh for goodness sake, Ginny, you're not going to give credence to anything that vermin told you, are you?"Ginny stared straight into his eyes, not at all intimidated.

"Why not?" she challenged. "They seem to know rather more about it on his side of the fence."Harry admitted this reluctantly, but still protested.

"That may be true, but it seems to me a very unfair description of you."Ginny shrugged indifferently.

"I don't consider it unfair at all." She replied. "I know I'm unpredictable – it's a large part of my creativity and my magical strength.Of course I won't submit to you – why on earth should I?I wasn't brought up to be submissive, for Merlin's sake.I have five brothers – that's not exactly encouragement to be meek and mild, now is it?"

~oo0oo~

Arthur shook his head with a gentle smile, coming back to earth as the hymn ended and the congregation sat down.He looked up at the highly-decorated lectern, observing as he did so that the unseasonally bright flowers were rather over the top.A faint smile crossed his face as he recalled the profusion of snowdrops and crocuses back at The Burrow.What would Cornelius himself have made of all this pomp and circumstance, I wonder? mused Arthur as Tantalus Brown approached the lectern to read the first lesson.What had Cornelius really been like anyway?Had he been as accomplished a Minister as they were today proclaiming?Or had his success been largely due to the considerable support he had received from Albus Dumbledore?Arthur wouldn't be surprised if the latter were the case.Things at the Ministry had turned on their heads after Fudge and Dumbledore fell out over You-Know-Who, and it had been some considerable time before anything coherent had been achieved at a high level.Tantalus Brown began to read.Arthur really did not want to listen, he preferred to keep his blood pressure at a manageable level.A faint, grim but satisfied smile settled over his lips as he recalled his relief when Brown had reluctantly withdrawn from the campaign to fill Cornelius's shoes.The article that Rita Skeeter had submitted to Brown for pre-publication comment, dealing with his treatment of Harry and Ginny over the Mexican affair, had been some of her best work.Rather a pity that Tantalus had caved in – it would have made marvellous copy.The downside was that Arthur's Department owed Rita big, and they had no doubt that come payday it would cost everything she could screw out of them.C'est la vie: they'd cross that bridge when they came to it.Arthur sighed soundlessly: even if they knew nothing bad about him, the fact remained that the New Man was something of an unknown quantity.

A shuffling of feet alerted Arthur that Brown had left the lectern.He strode back to his pew staring straight ahead, without deigning to acknowledge the diffident young man now taking his place at the huge Bible.Harry Potter carefully turned the pages until he found his place, refusing to be phased by Brown's discourtesy in not turning to the next reading.Arthur smiled faintly at the sight of his daughter's partner, still blinking behind his spectacles, still trying to flatten the unruly mop of hair that insisted on falling over his face.It was at times like these that Arthur was most forcibly reminded of James.Not that they had ever been close – Arthur and Molly had, after all, been several years senior to James, Sirius and Remus at Hogwarts – but he remembered James well, Lily too.And now their son was involved with his daughter, together with all that followed from such an alliance.Ginny had scarcely had time to breathe since hooking up with Harry.Their relationship had been fraught with danger from its very beginning.No wonder Ginny was reluctant to marry him – either or both of them could die tomorrow.Arthur shook his head again.That was why the exploitation of their mind-bond was so important.They had no choice but to see it through, if only for their own survival.The Dark Side were unlikely to slacken their vigilance now.Arthur's mind wandered again.

~oo0oo~

"He's answered my message – he's agreed to help us!"Hermione's almost incandescent excitement led Arthur to overlook her bursting into his office without even knocking.He looked up from his everlasting paperwork as a piece of well-worn parchment was waved frantically in his face.Arthur steadied it and squinted at the crabbed, scribbly writing.The message was from Dr. Ratcliffe in Florence, the learned gentleman Harry had consulted over his discovery of the Holy Grail last year.Seeing how desperate Harry and Ginny were becoming over their continuing inability to trigger their mind bond at will, Hermione had consulted the professor unofficially to see if he could shed some light on the problem.His response was to invite Harry and Ginny to the World Wizarding Library to explore some potential leads that could aid their endeavours.He insisted that Hermione should accompany them of course, but knowing the old man's partiality for his wife, Ron refused to let her go without him.Arthur came along for the ride, and also because he was curious to meet this eminent expert who had shed such a deal of light on the Holy Grail affair.

If he had known what he was letting himself in for, Arthur would probably have stayed quietly at home.Immediately on catching sight of Hermione, the good Professor enveloped her in a bear hug, kissing her soundly on each cheek.Arthur glanced fleetingly at his youngest son, observing a muscle twitching in his rigid face, and coughed discreetly into his handkerchief to hide his amusement.Ron refrained from kicking Ratcliffe in the shins as he received his rather more formal greeting, but only just.Almost immediately, the Professor and Hermione went into animated discussion, swiftly making lists and consulting the Catalogue.His suggestion that they should research some muggle documentation, namely that of the ancient Indonesian peoples, particularly Javanese Hindu writings was greeted with puzzlement by the others.

"But why?" demanded Ron, his antagonism making him blunt.Oblivious, the Professor turned an animated face towards him.

"A very good question, Mr. Weasley." He replied, absently stroking his beard. "The fact is that throughout history, a number of famous wizards were prominent Hindu priests, that particular great religion always being more tolerant than any other of so-called "magical" phenomena.Consequently, Hinduism has had far more interface with the magical community than Christianity, Islam, Judaism or any of the Eastern faiths."Hermione was nodding earnestly.

"Yes, Professor.I've also read that the older, pre-Christian religions of Europe have revealed a surprising wealth of knowledge and artefacts known to be magical in origin."

"That is absolutely true, Dr. Granger." replied the Professor."But we have so few European sources – the early Muggle Christians took it upon themselves to destroy anything they considered Pagan.I suggest we begin where the pickings are good and hope that we strike gold soon!"

Hermione submitted her enormous reading list to the Catalogue and within a few minutes the first instalment of texts was delivered.Arthur's jaw dropped.

"What a task!" he muttered.Hermione turned her head.

"Oh that's only about a quarter of it." She told him, frowning in concentration as she divided the books rapidly into six categories. "Even though I jumped the queue by using the Professor's name, these are only the references they had within easy reach.It should take them the rest of the day to track down all the texts I've requested, and probably most of tonight to assemble them.We should be able to discard half to three-quarters of this consignment – or at least send the relevant pages for copying – before we leave this evening."

By six o'clock, Arthur was going cross-eyed.When they broke for lunch, he had been congratulating himself at having reduced his huge pile of books by approximately 75%.Over lunch in the Library Refectory, he was looking forward to sloping off home early for once and surprising Molly.His spirits fell sharply, however, on his return to the reading room to find the next consignment of texts had been delivered while they were eating.The piles practically reached the ceiling!Arthur rested his forehead on the table and despaired.

It took two days to sort through the information.Two solid days of backache, cramp, sore necks, gritty eyes and aching brains, but the relevant material now resided at the Ministry of Magic.Hermione, with immense aplomb, had run roughshod over anyone who tried to stand in her way and had commandeered an office, some furniture and the services of a secretary.She then proceeded to work her way through the references slowly and methodically, magnanimously waving aside Tantalus Brown's protests about non-Ministry personnel and shutting the door firmly on his attempts to interfere.

~oo0oo~

Arthur's musings were interrupted again as the congregation stood for another hymn.Opening the small black book, he looked carefully around the church for his daughter-in-law.Ah, there she was, sandwiched nicely between Ron and George.He must remember to ask her if anything new had come up over the past couple of days.Was that Fred standing next to George?Yes, it was.Good.Bill had put in an appearance (suitably dressed, much to Molly's relief) and was standing on the other side of his mother.Sadly, Charlie was involved in the hatching of a brood of Hungarian Hornbacks which had reached a critical stage.The Hogwarts contingent had seated themselves towards the back – no doubt somewhat concerned about the all too blatant intrusion of the muggle press.

The hymn ended, the congregation sat down and the new Minister for Magic, Jeremy Wingford-Hill, slowly ascended the lectern to begin the Address.Arthur immediately started to pay close attention, not solely because the man was his ultimate superior, but because he was very curious as to how he would acquit himself in such a sensitive situation.Wingford-Hill took his time arranging his few pages of notes against the large Bible, then he looked out over the top of the lectern, surveying the congregation thoughtfully for a moment before beginning to speak.The proverbial pin could be heard echoing throughout the large building.Arthur smiled: he liked a man with a sense of theatre.

~oo0oo~

"Pressing the flesh" it was called.Or at least Arthur remembered it being described so by his then immediate superior when he joined the Ministry so many years before.Armed with a solitary glass of a vaguely alcoholic beverage that he pretended to sip every now and then, Arthur cruised the crowd attacking the funeral baked meats, feeling slightly nauseous.Trying to formulate a plan of attack, he was distracted by a low voice in his ear:

"Bloody awful crush.We'd get better service down the Cat & Broomstick.And a better meal too, although that wouldn't be hard!"

"Good to see you, Fred." replied Arthur without bothering to turn round."Rather a good turnout, I thought.At least most of our side stuck to the rules.And you're being a little unfair about the food: from the little I can see, it appears to be very good."

"I'm not protesting the quality, or even the quantity, just the proximity.Or lack of it."Fred pursed his lips and took an unenthusiastic sip from his glass, surveying the room.His eyes narrowed and fixed beadily on someone over the other side of the room.

"Sorry, Dad," he said, patting his father's arm without breaking his gaze, "I'll catch up with you later.I've got to go see a man about a hippogriff."He took off purposefully into the crowd and Arthur later spotted him deep in earnest conversation with Caesare Brooks.

"Damn and blast!" another voice exploded in Arthur's ear. "I've been trying to snatch a word with Fred all day.Couldn't you have held on to him for five minutes?"Arthur smiled sympathetically.

"George, your mother and I have been trying to hold on to either or both of you since the day you were born," he replied, amused, "With a singular lack of success, I might add."George grabbed a passing waiter by the sleeve and directed him to fill their glasses.

"Never know when you'll find another one in this crush." He commented, eyeing the diminishing buffet with chagrin.Arthur gave his son a considering look. 

"You say you haven't been able to pin Fred down all day." He said thoughtfully. "That's unusual, surely.Never a day goes by without you two cooking up something together, even now you've supposedly both grown up."George shook his head.

"I'm trying to focus his attention on the business." He complained."We've got some important policy decisions to make as to our future direction.Most of the time I run the whole bang shoot, but there's the odd occasion, like now, when I needs Fred's input – and incidentally his signature on some documentation."Arthur smiled.It was scarcely perceptible to outsiders, and if challenged he would have denied it vehemently, but there were definite signs that George was beginning to show a little more adult responsibility.Arthur was of the private opinion that it was well past time he grew up a little, but part of him couldn't help mourn the passing of the happy-go-lucky, irresponsible twin boys whose pranks he had outwardly condemned but inwardly enjoyed as much as they had.

George suddenly spotted Oliver Wood among the crowd and, hastily excusing himself from his father, fought his way to the other side of the room.Arthur caught sight of Oliver looking handsome and well-groomed, surprisingly well at ease in his muggle suit.With him were Lee Jordan and Ellen MacBeth, both long time friends of Fred and George.Arthur wondered if wedding bells were tentatively ringing in that direction and promised himself to make time to talk to the youngsters today.

"Arthur!How pleasant to see you.Wish it could have been under more cheerful circumstances though.Still, it wasn't exactly unexpected."Arthur turned to shake hands with Professor McGonnagall, a broad genuine smile creasing his face.

"Minerva!Good to see you too.How are things at Hogwarts these days?"The years had changed Minerva McGonnagall very little.She was still stiff-backed and severe, radiating an aura of calm competence from behind her square spectacles.If Arthur could discern a few more wrinkles and perhaps a little more grey in her hair since she had taken over from Professor Dumbledore as Head Teacher, he would never be so ungallant as to mention it.She was accompanied by Professor Flitwick, the tiny Charms teacher, who was so small as to be almost lost in the crowd.

"We're getting along much the same as usual." Professor McGonnagall replied to his question. "We're working very hard on the new student exchange programme, you know.Beauxbatons and Durmstrang have both been very supportive, and the scheme has been extremely successful.It's in it's third year now, and this year we've had some students from the American schools, LAWA and NYWA – Los Angeles and New York, you know.I think Harry Potter may have had some influence there."Professor McGonnagall smiled in satisfaction.

"We've also had an approach from Caravadoccia, the Italian school, but sadly the Russians and the Japanese regard the whole thing with grave suspicion.Professor Sinistra," she gestured to nearby group which included the Arithmancy teacher, Professor Vector, Professor Kettleburn and Madame Hooch, now retired, "Has put in a great deal of effort to forge links between the various schools."Arthur nodded briskly.

"This is all excellent news." He replied with approval."These links must be forged while the children are young enough to be flexible.You need have no worries about the continuation of your grant for this work, Minerva, I will make sure of that personally."She inclined her head in thanks.

"I have been a little concerned," she began, "That there are some in the Ministry who have their doubts as to the validity of our work in this area."She let her eyes slide over to a stiff little group standing somewhat apart from the crowd where Lady Fudge, flanked by her two sons, was being lectured by Tantalus Brown.Arthur followed her gaze and nodded slightly.

"Have no fear Minerva." He said quietly without turning back."The Ministry will support your work."But his eyes were flinty.As they watched, Jeremy Wingford-Hill approached Lady Fudge to spend a few minutes chatting to her.It seemed to Arthur that she latched on to him with the same relief a drowning man feels at the sight of a lifebelt.He smiled: for someone who had only known Cornelius personally for a year or so, Wingford-Hill's eulogy had been considerably better than anyone had expected.At least the man had done his homework.

A few moments later found Arthur taking very real pleasure in approaching a group comprising his daughter, his youngest son and their respective partners.Ron and Hermione were both radiating rather too much happiness for such a solemn occasion, but Arthur felt his spirits lifting just looking at them.Ron acted as though he and Hermione were joined at the hip, refusing to be parted from her for a moment and gazing sappily into her eyes whenever he thought he wasn't observed.Hermione seemed equally star-struck, and if Ron's fussing around her like a mother hen caused the occasional little frown of irritation, she refused to dwell on it.

"Doesn't she look well?" Ron said to his father as Hermione turned to exchange greetings with a colleague.Arthur nodded.

"Indeed she does.Motherhood becomes her." He raised his glass and clinked it against Ron's."I remember your mother when she was carrying Charlie – looked as pretty as a picture."Which was a good deal more than he could say for his own daughter, Arthur thought.Not that he had any reason to think Ginny was pregnant, of course.His smile faded as he noted her uncharacteristic silence, the shadows under her eyes, the tension in her body language.Harry seemed little different from usual, but Arthur noticed that he wouldn't stray far from her side, although he didn't touch her in any way, not even to hold her hand.He glanced around: people were starting to drift away now the buffet had been cleared.

"Have you spoken to Oliver yet?" Ron was talking to him.Arthur shook his head.

"Haven't reached him yet."

"So you won't have heard about his stint in Singapore then.Get this: the team has a new chaser who needs to be broken in.Seeing as it's the low season for Quidditch at the moment, matches are sparse anyway so Oliver's keeping the whole team in Singapore for two months' training.Imagine that!Two solid months in one of the most exciting cities in the world!"Arthur smiled.

"Perhaps you and Hermione could visit him for a holiday?"Ron shook his head.

"Nah, no Apparating or Porting for her until she's six months gone – too much of a shock to the system.And by that time, she says she won't want to be too far from home.I guess we could use muggle transport, but it's a long way to go, especially with morning sickness.I guess we'll wait till there's three of us!"Arthur grimaced.

"She's still being sick?"

"As a dog.It's supposed to stop after three months.Just goes to show you can't believe anything these Witch Doctors tell you!"Arthur smiled, drained his glass and looked around for Molly.He found her talking kindly to a nervous young wizard from Arthur's department who seemed very ill at ease in muggle clothes.Arthur nodded at him kindly before gently taking hold of Molly's elbow.

"I don't know about you, dear," he murmured into her ear, "But my feet are killing me, and I need a proper drink!"She smiled obediently and made her excuses to the young man before the couple embarked upon the obligatory round of farewells.Tantalus Brown seemed rather put out at being interrupted in full flow, but the widow received their condolences and thanks warmly.Arthur and Molly made their way slowly towards the exit.Molly sighed with suppressed exasperation.

"Honestly, I really don't think I could have stood another minute." She confided, rummaging in her handbag for their Portkey."Ah, here it is.What with Hermione still with morning sickness, Ginny looking so tense and Fred so very unhappy at the moment, this funeral has given me enough family worries for several weeks.And Arthur dear, you really must do something about that dreadful man, Tantalus Brown.He spilled my drink, positively stamped on both my feet, then had the nerve to glare at me as though it was my fault!And poor Lady Fudge!How she managed to stay civil to him is beyond my imagination."

"Yes indeed, dear." agreed Arthur, wrapping her gently in her coat. Yes indeed.But there's more to it than simply promotion beyond his level of incompetence, I'm quite sure about that.He's like a Hydra – wherever you go at the Ministry, whatever avenue you explore, you'll find one of his heads at the end of it.It just doesn't tally with the bluster, the sidelining, the petty one-upmanship.We've all been feeling the squeeze lately, but it can't be coincidence that my allies are gradually disappearing – seconded, being shunted to other posts, taking early retirement.I'm calling in more favours than I'm creating just simply to stay afloat.The muggles call this a War of Attrition, I believe.Their so-called "Cold War" was one such – it went on for decades.Somehow I don't think I'm going to last that long.


	3. Advent

Advent

I have no idea whether there are apartments of the kind described in this chapter in Mornington Crescent, having never been there.I am a devotee of "I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue" (a long-standing Radio 4 "quiz" game) and I wondered if I could manage to squeeze the name of Britain's longest-running non-game into a story.Hence Fred's address.

**Sorcerors' Endgame** A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Penpusher Sequel to "By the Pricking of My Thumbs" 

**Chapter Three: Advent ******

Weak sunlight was shafting into the room through the wide expanse of glass which led on to the balcony.The sliding doors were, however, closed and locked against the seasonal nastiness of a typical English spring.The profusion of crocuses bravely pushing their heads through the frosty earth gave the lie to the wintry weather, but the residents of Mornington Crescent paid them very little heed, keeping their heads covered against the biting sleet and knife-edged winds, hurrying to and fro between the warm buildings without so much as glancing at the ground.

The room was part of a second floor flat, high enough to deaden the roar of the traffic, if not its fumes.It was simply decorated: white paintwork, off-white emulsion, black ash shelves, desk and coffee table, office quality carpet in sand with matching drapes, a swivel chair for the desk and a squashy sofa, both in black leather.The low shelves were sparsely filled with coffee table books – natural history, impressionist art, history of rock music.There was very little else in the room – no magazines, no TV, no music centre – just a small computer huddled modestly on the desk, a couple of framed pencil drawings on the walls, and a coloured glass globe about the size of a cricket ball nestling on the shelves.The kitchen was similar – pots and pans tidily arranged in their draws and cupboards, fridge very clean and almost empty, not so much as a dishtowel left unattended.The bedroom gave a few more clues, but not many.Here, on attractive limed-oak shelves, was an abundance of books with titles like "Quidditch Techniques Around the World", "The Art of Glamour Vol. 3 – Advanced" and "MS Windows 2000 – Quick Reference".The bed itself was relatively tidy but crumpled, as though its latest occupant had too little time to ensure its orderliness.The nightstand contained more books, a packet of tablets labelled Ibuprofen, some loose change, a lamp, and a rather curious clock whose face was completely blank, but which still emitted a quiet tick. 

With a rattle of keys, the front door opened.Fred Weasley shook the remaining particles of sleet from his feet and hair before entering the hallway.He gave a weary sigh and opened the hall cupboard, hanging his winter raincoat on a hook and kicking his damp shoes into the purpose-built rack.Padding through the living room, he set a kettle to boil and hunted out some teabags from one of the cupboards.Minutes later, armed with a cup of hot, weak China tea, he moved back into the living room and waved his wand vaguely at the coloured glass globe nestling on its shelf.Immediately, tiny lights began to shoot from its surface, coalescing into a translucent spinning tube.As he watched, a face began to take shape at its centre.Fred frowned, not recognising the man, but gave a wry smile at his first words.

"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Simpson from Scopara Manubria Rapida.The repair on your Nimbus 2001 is going to be rather expensive I'm afraid.You were a little reticent as to the circumstances of your, er, accident, but the resulting damage to your broomstick is quite severe and will take at least five weeks' work to rectify."Fred couldn't suppress an amused smile as he sipped his tea: if Simpson only knew!

"It is possible that you may prefer to purchase a new broom rather than be without proper transport for this length of time."Fred gave a bark of laughter – the man was living in last century.Most witches and wizards had to integrate with muggles these days, and the muggle transport system, such as it was, was not exactly difficult.

"If so, I can assure you that Scopara Manubria will give you excellent terms and top trade-in value on the, er, remnants of your Nimbus."Shaking his head, Fred dipped his wand at the globe.Obediently Mr. Simpson's face disappeared and was replaced by the head of a very pretty blonde girl.

"Hi Fred, long time no see." She said in a broad Scots accent, smiling broadly."I just want to warn you I'm sending you a fairly bulky package by owl.It should arrive tomorrow first thing, so don't leave for the Ministry without it."Fred smiled with genuine affection.

"Looking after me again, are you Ellen?" he murmured, taking another pull at his cooling tea. "Save that for Lee – he needs it more than I do."Or was that true?Fred didn't know.

"It's a detailed financial analysis." She continued, "I'm not entirely sure what use you can make of it, but I've isolated some interesting and unusual trends which might be of some relevance to you.Happy reading!"Ellen's lovely face disappeared to be replaced by that of a formidable, middle-aged witch who glared out at him through severe black-rimmed spectacles.

"Mr. Weasley, I am Mr. Tantalus Brown's secretary."Fred snorted loudly.As if he didn't know!He could scarcely count the number of times this particular dragon had blocked his access to his superior.

"This message is to inform you that your official request for a security check at Azkaban High Security prison has been given serious consideration by Mr. Brown.However, he deems such a move to be unnecessary at the present time."Her head winked out abruptly.Fred slammed his fist hard against the wall in frustration.

"Damn and blast it!" he exploded angily, punching the wall in frustration.Then abruptly he crumpled against it, his head in his hands.

"Damn it all." He murmured, which meant something different.This was the end of the road, the deciding factor, the final proof that it was personal.Fred knew that the situation at Azkaban was not yet acute, but in a few short months it could easily reach critical mass.Since Dementors had been outlawed and reclassified as Dangerous Beasts, the Ministry had ceased to use them in matters of security.This left a gaping hole in the management of Azkaban, which had yet to be properly resolved, at least to Fred's satisfaction.Tantalus Brown had been reasonably receptive to reports of the situation when they had come on little sheets of memo paper bearing the names of Fred's various colleagues.However, the final request for a security check had come from Fred himself – and it had been refused.At long last he had proof he was being sidelined, and in the end, what good had it done him?It was time he, Fred Weasley, started asking himself some hard questions.What was he doing with his life?Okay, so he'd made himself an enemy in a very high place.That sort of thing had scarcely worried him in the past: there were ways and means of circumventing such unwarranted interference.But when push came to shove, was the game worth the candle?Fred massaged his temples, feeling a headache coming on.What sort of a life was he pursuing here?Did the Ministry mean so much that he would sacrifice all semblance of a normal existence to perform his function – however pointless that function might be?How long had it been since he had taken part in a social occasion that did not involve work in some way or other?When was the last time he had expressed any interest in the jokeshop business?Every time George tried to discuss it, he, Fred, had far more important issues to pursue.What important issues?What was more important than the business he and his brother had created out of nothing, solely through their own entrepreneurial spirit?He shook his head in perplexity.Where was his social life?His working hours had been so irregular throughout the past several years that the few women he'd had passed by like ships in the night.Why hadn't he formed a relationship with Ellen?A pointless train of thought as he was obviously too late – and she seemed very happy with Lee.No.The question was why hadn't he?Why had he allowed Ellen – a pretty, attractive, intelligent witch with a talent for intrigue Fred wasn't certain Lee would be able to handle – to slip away from him?They should have been soul mates.Come to think of it, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had any pleasant female companionship.Or any companionship at all.No, wait a moment.He still had friends, good friends.They all lived at Harry's house.So why had he moved out?Fred sighed.At least he knew the answer to that one, he told himself: he had grown up, that's why.He couldn't stand living in a goldfish bowl.He needed his independence, his freedom, his distinction from his twin brother.He needed privacy.And where had it got him?Alone, in a flat in Mornington Crescent, listening to talkmail, all of which is concerned with work, that's where!

A new voice started from the Messageglobe and Fred raised his head, his long-term concerns momentarily forgotten.The unlovely figure of the dragon had disappeared to be replaced by that of his twin brother.For once George was not smiling.

"Hi Fred." He said in a flat, tired voice."Just trying yet again to touch base with you.If I didn't know better, bro, I'd say you were avoiding me.Ciao!"Fred dipped his wand and the image froze.He studied his brother carefully.He looked weary, unhappy, as though things were getting on top of him._Someone else I've alienated?_Fred asked himself despairingly.At an emotional loss, he wandered into his bedroom, picked up the blank-faced clock and tapped it gently with his wand.

"_George Weasley."_ He muttered.The face glowed, suddenly coming to life.Hands appeared, spinning round on their axes, coming to rest at a time ten minutes hence.At the same time, an image started to form behind the hands.Fred nodded as he recognised the familiar shape of Harry's House.Abruptly he left the bedroom, striding into the hall and opening the cupboard.He thrust his feet back into his damp shoes, grabbed his soggy raincoat and went out of the flat in the direction of St. John's Wood, miserably aware as he did so of how predictable he was being.

~oo0oo~

"O-o-o-oh!That's better.Thank you, Ron!"Hermione smiled as she eased off her shoes, leaned back into the sofa and presented her sore feet to her husband.Smiling good-humouredly, he began to massage her right instep, noting how swollen her ankles had become.

"One of the side-effects." She told him, following his line of sight and grimacing.

"There was a lot of standing in the service," He sympathised."And nowhere to sit down at the reception."

"I don't think they were specifically catering for pregnant women," She replied, amused. "Or they'd have avoided the fish – ugh!"

"But it's so good for you, 'Mione, full of vitamins and fatty acids – oh, thank you, Ginny."Ron accepted two steaming mugs of tea and placed them carefully on the coffee table.

"I don't care, Ron."Hermione was firm."I'm sorry, but for the moment at least, I can't do fish.Even if it was the Elixir of Life itself, I still couldn't eat it!"Ginny smiled gently.

"I thought you coped really well today." She told her sister-in-law."Not that I know anything about it, of course, but you looked blooming, smiled all the time and managed to avoid anything alcoholic.A regular advertisement for motherhood!"Ron gave his sister a grateful look, noticing as he did so how thin she had become.His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the front door.George stalked balefully into the kitchen weighed down by bags of groceries, followed meekly by Oliver who was similarly laden.

"Don't say it!" George held a hand up and scowled meaningfully at Harry who shut his mouth hastily, swallowing tempting comments about housewives and future careers.Oliver smiled apologetically, shrugged his shoulders and turned to help his friend unpack and stow the shopping.Harry pointed his wand at the teapot, quickly producing two more mugs of tea for the newcomers, but even that didn't mollify George in the slightest.

"I wish I could dump this evening's cooking on Oliver," he grumbled, "But I can't, in all conscience."

"I told you I don't mind!" protested his friend, throwing tins of tomatoes into an eye-level cupboard.George shook his head.

"Don't be ridiculous.You've been in Singapore for weeks training with the team until today, and you're Porting back tomorrow!We want to talk to you, not chain you to the range!"Oliver's mobile eyebrows quirked at the choice of words, but he held his peace.

"Spending the spring on hiatus in Singapore, are we Oliver?" said Ron, grinning."It's okay for some!I'd be happy for one weekend in three to myself, never mind two solid months!"

"Absolutely!" grinned Harry."What a hard life he has, eh, Ron?Two months lazing about in a wonderful place like Singapore, with all of Indonesia beckoning.I wouldn't mind a job like that – especially during a typical English spring."

"Too right." agreed George, still not quite recovered from his bad mood but taking it out on the empty carrier bags."This weather must be the worst I've flown in since that Quidditch match against Hufflepuff in my fourth year at Hogwarts – remember that one, Harry?"Harry winced.

"I try not to, George." He replied with a chagrined smile.Oliver took a sip of his tea, waving down the general laughter.

"Hey, it's not all play, you know." He protested, but got no further as even Ginny and Hermione joined in the catcalls.

"No, I'm serious!" he shouted above the noise."There's a lot of hard work involved in integrating a new team member.Besides," he sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, his face assuming a rather pensive expression."It's really not all it's cracked up to be."This statement should have brought forth a volley of heckling, but somehow the others realised he was being serious and let him continue unmolested.

"The life of a professional player/manager is really exciting and good fun for the first few years," he began."But after a while it begins to tell on you.I've travelled all over the globe with the Swifts, and the only place I can call home is here.But I'm scarcely ever around to talk to anyone, let alone help decorate, keep the garden tidy or cook a meal even.I'm approaching thirty." This elicited taunts and insults from the men.Oliver frowned. 

"It'll happen to you all one day.No, shut up, I'm serious!" He sighed."I'm beginning to feel it's time to hang up the gloves, find somewhere to put down roots and all that stuff, you know?But sadly that's not going to be possible, at least for a while.To be honest, the lack of a proper social life is really beginning to bug me." 

"Are the Singapore girls too choosy then, Ollie old chap?"Ron was deliberately trying to lighten the tone, but Oliver merely looked at him gravely.

"You tell me, Ron." He responded, staring into his mug of tea."I just don't have the time to find out!"

Ginny and Hermione exchanged a look.Ginny crossed behind Oliver, still absorbed in his own self-examination and wound her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek against his.He jerked his head slightly in surprise, and relaxed into her soft embrace, putting a companionable hand on her arm.He sighed gently and smiled.

"Thanks Ginny." He said gratefully.

"I'd do the same," commented Hermione, getting up from the sofa with an effort. "But I'm not sure I could reach you over the bump!"

"Oh come on, Hermione!" Harry scoffed."Anyone would think you were the size of a house!"Ginny laughed, hugging Oliver more tightly and kissing him on the cheek.

"Cheer up!" She told him."'Mione and I will cook."She looked up as the kitchen door opened to admit Lee and Ellen.Ginny smiled in greeting.

"There you go, Oliver." She said lightly."George is right you know.You really should catch up with everyone while you can."To Oliver's regret, she removed her arms, ruffled his hair and followed Hermione over to the range.Oliver quickly suppressed the feelings of chagrin he often experienced on seeing Ellen together with Lee and busied himself making a fresh pot of tea.Lee wandered over to George, absently picking up and stowing packets of pasta and rice.

"Did you manage to catch up with Fred?" he asked in all innocence.George frowned.

"No." he growled shortly, going back to his earlier ill-humour.He all but kicked a large Savoy cabbage into a cupboard in frustration.Lee held up his hands.

"Whoa there!What's got into you two?"George sighed and shook his head.

"I wish I knew, Lee." He said in a resigned tone of voice."I just can't seem to pin Fred down for more than a few seconds at a time.And it's been going on for months!"Lee scratched his head reflectively.

"Come to think of it, I haven't seen much of him at the Ministry either."But George's head had jerked like a pointer spotting a bird.

"Speak of the devil."He muttered."Perhaps it's just as well the cooking's being taken care of tonight.Something's obviously up."Lee turned to see a tall red-haired figure dripping freely over the kitchen floor.

"Any room for waifs and strays?" he asked ironically, but the comment was somehow devoid of his usual bounce.With a wide grin, Oliver thrust a steaming mug of tea at him while Ellen put his raincoat on a hanger and set it to dry near the fire.

"Did you get my message?" she asked.He nodded, smiling faintly.

"Yes, thank you, but to be honest I'm not sure how much anything I produce is ever going to achieve in the short or the long run."Ellen looked at him in astonishment.

"What on earth has happened, Fred?" she demanded.He shook his head and smiled.

"Take no notice, pretty lady." He replied, looking straight into her eyes."I get like this when I forget to take my medication.Pretty soon they'll be sending the men in white coats to take me away, but you'll deal with them, won't you?"Ellen returned his smile uncertainly but allowed him to walk away towards the window without comment.As she watched him go, George wandered over and put a tentative hand on his shoulder.Ellen hooked Fred's coathanger over the edge of the mantelpiece and frowned, staring into the flames.When she and Lee had entered the kitchen, the first thing she noticed was Oliver's mournful puppydog "how in hell did I let that one get away from me?" look.Ellen was used to it by now and had learned to ignore him, but it had shaken her severely to see the self-same expression in the depths of Fred's eyes.

"Hey, look at this!" Hermione triumphantly unearthed an unopened packet of Arborio rice. "I think it must date from when I was living here!"A huge smile spread across Ginny's face.

"Now you're talking!With that leftover chicken and the packet of prawns in the freezer …"

"Let's see if George bought any ham …"

"Oh great!Salad onions and mixed peppers …"

"Mushrooms!Are these for anything in particular, George?"Hermione turned enquiringly to her brother-in-law.George shook his head, a slow smile spreading over his face.

"'Mione dear, if you're volunteering to cook tonight, you can use anything you can find, with my blessing!"The two girls looked at each other and exchanged a nod.

"_Paella!"_

The kitchen exploded into activity – even Harry was drafted in.Fred's usual role in these endeavours was to slope off to the off-licence and return with several crates of alcohol of varying kinds.However, tonight Ron and Oliver took on this task.Things were obviously greatly amiss between Fred and George and their friends, in unspoken agreement, left them to it.

~oo0oo~

Fred gazed unseeingly out into the darkness of the garden.The rain pelted against the windows, flowing in rivulets down the glass like tears.George shifted uncomfortably.

"Look, Fred, I know you've never had quite the same interest in the Jokeshop business after the Ministry recruited us, but this stuff is really quite important.I need some answers now, and I need your signature on various documents before we can expand our interests, and let me tell you now: if we don't expand, we'll miss a golden opportunity which our competitors will jump at."Fred sighed and tore his gaze away from the window.

"George, I'll sign anything you want, you know I will."George made an exasperated noise.

"I know you trust me, that's not the point.The point is I need your help, your advice.I can't run this thing without you, bro.After all, it was your inspiration, your brass neck that got us into it in the first place!"Fred stared at his brother in astonishment.

"George, your modesty and downright humility will be the death of me!Flamel's Stone, you've been running the place single-handedly for years without the slightest bit of useful input for me.Where's the difference now?"Fred was almost laughing."You took what was a joke, a bit of a laugh – two overgrown adolescents fulfilling a childhood dream – and made it into a viable business.You've looked after its interests and juggled them against your duties at the Ministry as though you were born to it.You're making a steady profit and all your decisions have been well thought out and sound.What more do you need from me except my signature?"George was quiet for a few moments while Fred went back to staring out into the garden.Then, unexpectedly, Fred began again.

"I've grown out of it, George." He said quietly."I seem to have grown out of most things I took joy in.Is that what growing up is about, do you think?Or have I really "burnt out"?"George shook his head.

"You've always been the clever one, Fred."His brother opened his mouth to deny it, but was silenced by a look.

"It's true," George continued."And you needn't let modesty get in the way.You've always worked on intuition, but only when logic wouldn't get you the answers.You've always put in the hard work, but your very quickness and creativity makes you impatient.You've never really been able to settle, not fully, and that's one of the reasons Tantalus Brown doesn't trust you."Fred turned to his brother, his jaw practically on the floor.George smiled smugly, pleased at for once having surprised his twin.

"I may be more interested in the Jokeshop than the Ministry, but that doesn't mean I don't keep my ear to the ground, Fred." He told him."I know you're frustrated, I know you feel you're being held back, but it's not going to be this way forever."He shrugged.

"In many ways, I'm probably the luckier of the two of us, despite my apparent limitations in comparison with you."Fred stared but George continued placidly.

"I'm pretty much a plodder when it comes to work." he continued."I'm a fairly contented person anyway, and I really enjoy the jokeshop business.To be honest with you, I was never that interested in politics or intrigue – or making things happen, to be honest, although that probably sounds like heresy to you."Fred gestured to him to continue, apparently lost for words.

"I'm happy here, Fred." He stated flatly."I like Harry's House and I like the business.If you think I'm doing a satisfactory job without you, then that's good enough for me.But I know you need more out of life."

"George," Fred's eyes were dark with emotion."I'd sign over the whole thing to you this minute if I thought you'd thank me for it."He sighed and put a hand through his hair.

"It's not that I crave excitement – Merlin knows I've had enough of that to fill a lifetime."Fred fell silent, brooding.George waited, knowing instinctively not to interrupt.

"Somehow it all seemed to have a purpose in the beginning."Fred's eyes became shadowed, unseeing, as his mind travelled back in time. He shook his head.

"Going into the Ministry was the last thing I wanted to do."

"Too right!"George agreed with a grin, catching his brother's eye as they remembered the scorn they had poured on their pompous elder brother Percy's ambitions.Fred smiled reminiscently.

"Training as an undercover operative, working in intelligence – it wasn't just the glamour, it was the feeling I was doing something that mattered.Even though we were both still wet behind the ears during the year You-Know-Who was defeated, I felt so alive knowing that I was doing something which might make a difference.I was good at it too.And in the years after the War, there was so much work to be done mopping up pockets of resistance, tracing those missing in action, liaising with the European intelligence services, the muggle government – so much still to do."He paused and looked up at his brother.

"If the general wizarding populace knew half the atrocities that were committed during the War," he said, slowly and reflectively, "They'd never recover from the shock.Terrible things."He shook his head again slowly, pensively."And I was part of it, George."Fred's eyes strayed over to where Ginny was holding out a spoon of paella for Harry to taste.

"Harry's seen some action in his time, and a lot of danger, especially during the last year of the War, but he's not been to the places I've been or done the things I've had to do."Fred turned despairing eyes to his brother.

"There's blood on my hands, George."He said quietly.George stared in perplexity then opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment a heavy hand descended on each of their shoulders and they looked up into the grinning face of their youngest brother.

"Sorry to break this up, fellas, but dinner is served – so the girls tell me."he pulled a doubtful face.Ginny waved a ladle at him.

"Never judge a broomstick by its handle!" she cried in mock ferocity.

"Absolutely!" bellowed Ron, turning back to her."Always look for the word 'Firebolt' – and make sure it's not an illegal copy!"

Altogether it was a very convivial meal, despite their general weariness and the sombre tone of the afternoon.Hermione, who was still experiencing periods of extreme fatigue, stayed for a brief half hour afterwards, then prevailed upon Ron to take her home, yawning prodigiously.The others continued to drink coffee and talk, but no one wanted to make a night of it and they were soon drifting off to their respective rooms.All except for George who, seeing that Fred was making no move to go back to his flat, quietly brewed another pot of coffee, even though he didn't really want it.

"Don't forget to call in home before you go to the Ministry." Ellen told him with a smile before bidding him goodnight."The information in my report isn't likely to remain current for too long."Fred nodded, giving her a wave and smiling absently.George poured the rich Java-Sumatra blend, adding milk to his own, leaving Fred's black.Fred accepted it without comment, but remained silent.George sat patiently, waiting.Finally, Fred looked at him.

"You should go to bed." He stated.George shrugged.

"You seemed to want to talk." He replied easily."I'm not tired."Fred nodded but seemed unwilling to start.George shifted a little in his seat.

"You said you'd seen some action, some things you – weren't happy about?"Fred shook his head, smiling grimly.

"What I _said_, George, was that there's blood on my hands."He stopped.George waited, but his brother didn't continue.

"Is it true?"There was a very long silence before Fred spoke again.

"Yes."He whispered, gazing into space.After a while, Fred glanced up, his expression almost angry.

"Well?" he accused, "Aren't you going to say anything?"George looked at him and spread his hands in perplexity.

"What do you want me to say?" he countered, "What _can_ I say?My twin brother just admitted to homicide.How am I supposed to react?Shout and scream?Throw a fit?Demand your repentance?Fred, you're my brother and I love you.Nothing's going to change that.Whatever you've done, I know that you had good cause."For a moment, George thought his brother was going to lose it.Fred swallowed with difficulty, blinked several times and cleared his throat.He shook his head slowly over and over again.

"No one has good cause to take anyone else's life, George," He whispered. "Even if it is in defence."He paused for a while, ordering his thoughts, then looked straight into George's eyes.

"Several years back, I went for some intensive training – do you remember?"George nodded.

"Well, it wasn't for promotion exactly, although that's what I told you.I did a stint in Special Operations."George's eyes widened.

"So that's how you know Caesare Brooks so well."Fred nodded. 

"He was my C.O.," he explained."And a very good leader he is too.The powers that be think he's too old for field work now, of course – load of rubbish, but that's another story."Fred swallowed and began again.

"We were on an assignment.We'd received a tip-off about a suspected break-out from Azkaban, so we set a trap and lay in wait for them.It should have been easy, there should have been no struggle, no violence, just a quick, simple capture." He sighed.

"Needless to say, it wasn't.One of the perps thought he could take my partner, so he tried.He had a muggle pistol – nasty looking thing.He – didn't manage it.The advanced self-defence they teach you when you join Special Ops gets so firmly ingrained it becomes second nature.I killed him with my bare hands, George, before I'd even thought about it.Well, bare hand singular – heel of the hand up into the bridge of the nose, hard.No one gets up after that."George was silent: he didn't know what to say.Fred sighed again.

"I'd never killed anyone before, never even wounded anyone in anger." He continued."I started having nightmares, panic attacks.Eventually I was sent for counselling.They managed to sort it out more or less, but my career with Special Ops was well and truly over – thank goodness."He shuddered, adding:

"They're not assassins, but they might just as well be to my mind!"George nodded, steepling his fingers.

"And you think you've burnt out because of this?"Fred shook his head violently.

"No, no." He replied quickly."It really has nothing to do with the – the killing, but everything to do with the counselling to help me get over it."He paused to take a sip of coffee, grimacing when he realised that it was only lukewarm.

"I've suspected for a long time that I was being marginalized." He continued, placing his mug back on the coffee table."Assignments that were very obviously in my special field of experience were being allocated elsewhere.It started on a small scale, but after a while it became quite noticeable.Then Lee came to me.He'd stumbled on something, a memo saved where it shouldn't be – something like that.He was so astonished by it that he printed it out.Good job he did because twenty minutes later it had been erased."

"What was it?" George was interested.

"It was a note about me."Fred said between his teeth."It wasn't signed or dated and Lee couldn't discover anything about its origin.It merely stated that as a result of my need for counselling after the – incident I told you about, I was compromised: unstable, lacking in mental resilience."Fred spread his hands helplessly.

"Since then, I've been sidelined more and more frequently." He said."I've spent some considerable time and effort trying to find out who, and today I had my final proof – Tantalus Brown."George gave a bark of grim laughter.

"I could have told you that!" he replied.Fred nodded.

"I know, but I needed to be sure.So now I really am up Whatever Creek, seriously minus paddle, outboard motor or even punting pole."George was shaking his head.

"But Fred," he protested."Even if you are right about Brown, he failed to become Minister.If Wingford-Hill is anything like as good as people are saying he is, Brown's days are numbered."Fred pursed his lips.

"That may be so, George," he replied."But by the time it happens, I'll be too far down the list to be of use to anyone.I'll be on the scrapheap, pushing paper for the rest of my life, maundering on in the Staff Restaurant about how things used to be.I've seen 'em – pathetic!"He got up from the sofa in disgust, stretching his arms and yawning.

"It's late, bro." He said, clapping George on the shoulder."Thanks for listening, but I really don't know how I'm going to get out of this one.I'm sorry we didn't discuss the business properly, but I tell you what – owl me the documents and I'll get them back to you by return, okay?"George smiled and nodded, giving his twin a mock-salute.Fred crossed to the hall cupboard to fetch his broomstick and, with a light wave, went out into the night.George yawned, sighed and collected the coffee cups before retiring to bed.

~oo0oo~


	4. A Glimmer of Hope

SEG Ch.4 - A Glimmer of Hope

**A long chapter this time.Many thanks for the reviews.Sorry to be such a slow starter, Iggly Wiggly, but I think it's beginning to motor now.I'm grateful to ****Moon Magick by: D.J. Conway And Terra's BOS for much of Hermione's telling of the legend of Syrinx.******

**Sorcerors' Endgame** A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Penpusher Sequel to "By the Pricking of My Thumbs" 

**Chapter Four:A Glimmer of Hope******

Harry winced as he landed unobtrusively on his frozen front lawn, jarring his left foot.Gritting his teeth against the sudden shock of pain, he carefully dismounted from his Firebolt.The sprained ankle had been sheer carelessness, he should have been ready for the throw.He sighed: distraction, preoccupation with the problems of the past few weeks had got the better of him.His instructor had told him bluntly to get out of the gym and return when his mind was back in gear: inattention at Harry's level was positively dangerous.

He stowed his broomstick in the hall cupboard, strolling into the kitchen in search of company.Finding no one about, he climbed the stairs to the West Wing and wandered into the suite of rooms he shared with Ginny.After the turbulent events of last summer, when they had decided to commit to each other, Harry had done some remodelling of the first floor.Originally a long corridor had opened on to two large bedrooms each with an ensuite bathroom.Now a door at the top of the stairs opened into a large living area, bedroom and ensuite off to the left, with the other bathroom transformed into a study for Harry and the corresponding part of the corridor made into a tiny soundproof room which only just housed a keyboard, shelves of music, a computer and a full-length mirror – Ginny's workroom.Harry strolled through to discover that he was first home.Showering quickly to rid himself of the sweat and grime accumulated that afternoon, he changed clothes, keeping one ear attuned to any sound in the house.It was not long before he heard the slam of the front door followed by quick, light footsteps pausing at the hall table.Pulling a sweater over his head, he wandered down the stairs to find Ginny going through the owl post, still in her outdoor coat.She gave him a brief brilliant smile before turning back to her perusal.

"Hi Harry, you're early.Marvellous news: I got two new contract offers through this morning.One's with a really up and coming set-up: it seems that Hold That Thought didn't do me any harm at all!Are you okay?"Her pleased smile turned into a slight frown at Harry's sudden gasp of pain.He had taken the last few stairs too fast, landing heavily on the injured foot.He shrugged.

"Just a sprained ankle.Nothing to worry about."She furrowed her forehead, taking in both the injury and the lack of any apparent treatment.

"What have you been doing to injure yourself this time, Harry?And what on earth did you think you were playing at coming home on a broomstick with an ankle the size of a balloon rather than going to the Infirmary?"Her tone was sharp.Harry looked down at his ankle, ruefully observing that it had indeed swollen rather badly.He gave her a puzzled look, surprised at the asperity of her response.

"I landed awkwardly during my defence workout." He said quietly, after a small pause."I decided to come straight home rather than go to the Infirmary because I rather hoped you would heal it for me.Selfish of me, perhaps, but I would prefer your attentions to those of one of the nurses at the gym."Ginny's face relaxed into chagrined relief.

"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry!"She put her arms round his neck and briefly buried her face in his shoulder.Pushing him away, she looked anxiously up into his face.

"Of course I'll heal it for you.Do you want me to do it now?"She swiftly unsheathed her wand.Harry gently caught her wrist.

"Slow down." He said curiously. "What's all this about anyway?"

"All what?"She refused to meet his eyes, turning instead to hang up her coat and move towards the kitchen.

"Tea?" she offered, glancing over her shoulder as she pointed her wand at the kettle.Harry wasn't fooled.He nodded his assent, followed her through the door and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Ginny, ever since I got back from Mexico you've been like a cat on hot bricks." He told her."Now, this is maybe not the best time to bring it up, but I'm feeling as though my every move is being analysed for – well, I'm not sure what for, but you're certainly quizzing me on every little thing I do.It's as though you suspect me of – I don't know – having a mistress or something!"Ginny's eyes widened in surprise, then her face creased into helpless laughter.

"A mistress?" she exclaimed, when she could draw breath. "Well, Harry, in all my worries about you, founded or unfounded, a mistress was one danger I never imagined."To his surprise, Harry found he was rather offended.

"Why ever not?" he demanded."Hey, I'm The Famous Harry Potter – what's to stop them falling over each other in the rush?I have to beat them off with a stick at the Ministry, you know!"He spread his arms, displaying himself.Ginny giggled.

"No offence, my love," she told him."But it took you long enough to make a move on me, and you've known me most of your life!"

"Ah, well, that was different." He subsided a little."After all, we were talking about a life or death situation in those days.And as I recall it, young lady, it was _you_ who made a move on _me!_"

"Only because you were being so slow about it!" she retorted, giving a sly smile."I guess it must have been lack of practice."

"Hey!" Harry lunged at her in outrage, but she dodged behind the kitchen table, laughing.She pointed at their two mugs on the kitchen table as he advanced.

"Mind the tea – you'll spill it!"Harry ignored her protests, pinning her to the table and mercilessly tickling her.

"Stop it!Stop it!" was all she could manage through hysterical laughter and struggling.

"Can a person interrupt long enough to get himself a well-earned, end-of-the-day hot drink, or are we returning to the habits of late last summer?"Harry turned his head to see Lee leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe.

"Oh, uh, hi, Lee.Just resolving a few, uh, _differences!_"Harry's voice rose an octave on the last word as Ginny, taking advantage of his momentary hesitation, turned on the offensive.Desperately trying to escape her, Harry rolled over the end of the table, lost his footing and landed flat on his back.Ginny quickly planted a stiletto heel lightly on his solar plexus: Harry subsided.

"Pax?" she asked sweetly.

"You started it!" he protested in an indignant voice, cutting off abruptly at a slight increase of pressure from Ginny's shoe.

"Pax?" she suggested once more.He nodded.

"Okay, pax."She removed her shoe and picked up her mug of tea, grinning from ear to ear.Lee rolled his eyes.

"When you've quite finished." He strode over to test the heat of the kettle.Harry was on his feet now, tucking in his shirt and smoothing his ruffled hair.

"That reminds me," he said to Ginny."How's your self-defence training coming on?"A smile spread across her face as she sipped her tea, nodding thoughtfully.

"Pretty good, I reckon." She told him."I've got a session tomorrow – come along and see."

"I think I already have first hand experience." He replied, gingerly feeling his ribs.She ruffled his hair.

"Wuss!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Where you going?"Ginny was climbing the stairs, taking her tea with her.She looked back over her shoulder.

"30 minutes – no more, I promise." Her look was pleading."I've got an audition tomorrow and I've had so little time to prepare."

"What about my ankle?"Ginny paused half way up the flight of stairs.

"Right now?" she queried.Harry gave her a wounded puppy look.

"Oh alright."Coming back down the stairs, she made him sit on the sofa, pushing up the leg of his trousers and easing the sock over the swollen flesh.She winced.

"You certainly did land heavily." She told him, unsheathing her wand."What on earth were you doing?"Harry flinched as she moved his foot back into position.

"Not paying enough attention, that's what!"Ginny touched the ankle, already beginning to colour, and murmured "_Contraho."_Harry sighed in relief as the swelling disappeared and his ankle became whole again.

"Idiot!" she said affectionately, ruffling his hair."Can I go practise now?"Harry smiled and waved a negligent hand.

"Go on." He told her. "It's my turn to cook anyhow – and Lee will give me a hand, won't you Lee?"Lee choked on a mouthful of coffee.Harry thumped his back unnecessarily hard and beamed at him brightly.

"Well, looks like it's just us then."More or less recovered, Lee gave him a baleful glance and made towards the fridge.

"I guess I'd better give you a hand," he muttered, peering into its depths."Or we'll all starve.How many are at the communal trough tonight?"

~oo0oo~

Dinner turned out to be a fairly quiet meal.Ellen arrived home from the office, exhausted, at a little before eight, but George was spending the evening at Fred's flat to sort out the paperwork on the jokeshop business, and there were no extras.Harry and Lee had produced a quite tasty pork casserole with new potatoes and baked red cabbage.Ellen smilingly complimented them on their domestic expertise.Lee laid down his cutlery with a thoughtful air and looked at Harry and Ginny.

"Don't you two ever think about moving out?You know, getting a place together, like Ron and Hermione?"Harry laughed.

"Don't forget who has ultimate responsibility for this joint, Lee."He said."I can't move out if I own the place, now can I?"

"Well, I don't know about that." Lee replied, waggling a finger didactically."You could always find a couple more young professionals to take your places and use this as a nice little business."

"We'd have to remodel again." Put in Ginny thoughtfully.

"Unless, of course, you two took over the West Wing?"Harry was grinning, but Ellen and Lee exchanged a shy glance.Ellen blushed.Ginny decided to spare their embarrassment.

"For the moment, we seem to have all we need here." She put in unexpectedly."The house is so beautiful and the gardens so large.We'd be foolish to look for anywhere else."

"I think Lee is looking for assurance that we're not going to evict him at a moment's notice, Ginny."Said Harry smiling and patting her hand.Lee coughed awkwardly and stood up to start clearing the dishes.Ellen looked at him, rolled her eyes and set about helping him.Presently the two of them went out to a concert leaving Ginny and Harry alone once more.

Harry yawned: his nightly cocoa was making him sleepy.He gave his Queen instructions to move two places.She stared at him, hands on her hips.

"You call that a move?" she shouted shrilly then shrugged her shoulders in a "what can I do, I only work here" manner.Ginny giggled and told her knight to move in line with Harry's queen.He bowed in an exaggerated manner and did so without comment.Harry then gave his own knight orders to take Ginny's bishop.The knight frowned, got off his horse and glared at Harry.

"Look, I'm sorry, old chap, but it just won't do." he burst out, stabbing the board with his sword."I mean, dash it all, playing dirty against another chap is one thing, but against this lovely young lady?It just isn't cricket."Ginny collapsed in fits of laughter.Harry sighed.

"I'm going to have to get my own set of pieces." He complained."I can't keep borrowing George's – he's so much better than me that I get nothing but insults out of them!"

"I'm getting tired anyway." Ginny said, still smiling.There was a companionable silence.

"Ginny," Harry began.

"Mmm?" Her eyes met his over the top of her mug.

"I don't want to spoil what has been a very pleasant evening, but do you think we might try to talk about why you're so worried about me?"His eyes were gentle and enquiring, sympathetic.Ginny looked down at the floor, fiddling with the hem of her skirt.Her lips moved, but no sound emerged.She seemed to be fighting some kind of internal battle.Finally she gave a deep sigh.

"Okay, Harry." she said in a low voice, smoothing her skirt and sitting on her hands.

"When you went to Mexico," she began, "We parted on the worst terms possible, and when you finally came home, both of us had narrowly survived serious attacks not just on our relationship but on our lives.Can you wonder that I worry now?It's taken me a long time to get over what – what Malfoy did to me, partly because of the nature of the enchantment, but also because it made me painfully aware of how vulnerable we are."She held up her hand to forestall his attempted interruption.

"Please hear me out, even if you don't want to."Harry subsided. Ginny swallowed and folded her hands in her lap.

"I just can't seem to relax properly any more," she began again."Particularly when we're apart for any reason.I'm constantly checking my feelings, my emotions, every minute of every day, terrified that there'll be something, some kind of change that will mean I'm under another spell.Whenever you're out of my sight, I worry that I won't see you again, that some part of the Dark Side will whisk you away and you'll never come home."Harry reached for her and swiftly gathered her into his arms, knowing that she was close to tears.

"I know this was the kind of danger I took on willingly when I committed to you," she continued, sounding slightly muffled."But it's preying constantly on my mind.It's difficult to function normally when I get panicky.I try hard to overcome it, but it's an uphill struggle all the time.And now we keep trying and failing to activate the mind bond at will."She raised her head and looked him directly in the eyes.

"It's the only defence we've got, Harry." she said urgently."Neither of us can stand up against the Dark Side without the added power the Melding gives us.And I can't help feeling that it's all my fault we can't do it …" she trailed off, burying her face in his shoulder once more.Harry tilted her chin until her eyes met his once more.

"This is really about Draco Malfoy, isn't it?"He said softly.Her eyes widened.

"What?" she whispered, a trace of fear ghosting over her face.Harry stroked a wayward strand of red hair from her face.

"What he told you.That the Dark Forces reckoned you too volatile to make a go of bonding with me, yes?"Ginny seemed to relax slightly but dropped her eyes.

"Well, I guess so." She snuggled into his shoulder again.He caressed her back.

"Ginny, Malfoy knows nothing." He soothed."He's never had any inkling of a bonding in his life – wouldn't know one if it hit him in the face.The problem is with both of us, not just with you."He sighed and kissed the top of her head.

"We're dealing with an unknown quantity here.No one knows what to do with us.Maybe Hermione's research will turn up something – who knows?Until then we just have to keep trying.It's not a comfortable position to be in, I know, but we have no other option."He paused for a moment, then rubbed his index finger over his lower lip thoughtfully.

"In some ways, perhaps it is just as well that we can't activate the bond readily."Ginny sat bolt upright and glared.

"_What?_" she exclaimed."You actually _want_ us to get fried by the Dark Side?"Harry was shaking his head.

"No, I was thinking about the Ministry and the politics involved at present.You realise that once we _do succeed with this thing, we run a serious risk of being exploited?It's a very real possibility, especially considering the ambitions of one such as Tantalus Brown.Wingford-Hill seems like a reasonable chap, but we don't know enough about him."_

"But Harry, it's the one way I can be of some possible use to you, rather than making you vulnerable – it has to work, it just _has to!"Ginny's eyes were filling with tears.Harry was astonished._

"Is that what this is all about?" he exclaimed in wonder."You think you're a weak link, a millstone round my neck?Oh, Ginny, nothing could be further from the truth!"He caught her hands in his, his face was alight with emotion.

"I couldn't find the strength to go on if it weren't for you."He told her earnestly."Without you I'd have given up and buried myself in LA for the rest of my life, analysing bits of rock and stone, losing myself in the past.You've given me a future, Ginny, a reason to keep fighting to stay alive.And you're in no way a weak link!Your strength of character is one very good reason why you have such immense magical talent, and without that you and I wouldn't make anything like as effective a partnership."Ginny stared back at him unable to speak, her eyes brimming over with tears.Harry reached out a gentle hand to wipe them away.

"Oh, Ginny." He murmured, stroking her hair, cradling her face in his hands."You're the loveliest girl I've ever known, the bravest and most courageous witch I've ever met, and the partner I would most like to have by my side in any crisis."He bent his head to capture her lips in a deep, lingering kiss.He sighed, feeling her head settle against his shoulder, her hands gently caressing the skin of his back.

"I've said it before, my love, but it bears repetition, especially at a time like this."He whispered close to her ear, his breath tingling over her skin."I want to spend my whole life loving you – every day, every hour, every moment."His lips sought the curve of her neck, eliciting a soft gasp of pleasure.

"However long or short my time is likely to be," he continued huskily."I want to spend it by you …" He nuzzled her ear deliciously. Her fingers briefly tangled in his hair.

" … with you …"His hands slid slowly past the buttons of her blouse, caressing the soft skin beneath.

" … and in you."The last was a throaty murmur as he claimed her mouth once again.Several minutes passed in silence punctuated only by the rustle of fabric and the occasional sigh.Breaking away to draw breath, Ginny stood up and silently held out her hand.Her clothes were dishevelled, her pupils so dilated as to be almost black, and her steady gaze sent shivers down Harry's spine.He stared at her, shaking his head, a wondering smile playing about his lips.She wanted him.She could have anyone she chose, anywhere – and she wanted _him_.A small flame of hope for the future ignited in his heart.Heedless of his disarrayed clothing, he grasped her hand and followed her up the staircase to the West Wing, leaving the chess pieces and cocoa mugs abandoned on the coffee table.Harry's Queen stared after their retreating figures, hands on her hips.

"Oy!" she shouted furiously. "You're not just going to leave us here in the middle of a game, are you?"The knight walked across to her square and patted her arm soothingly.

"Look on the bright side, old thing." He told her."At least the next time we play, we're likely to have George in charge.That's got to be a change for the better, eh what?"

Much later when the last light in the house had been extinguished, Harry's physical and emotional fulfilment finally spilled him over into sleep.Illuminated only by a shaft of moonlight stabbing through a gap between the drapes, his face was thrown into monochrome contrast.Ginny, propped up on her pillow by one elbow, gazed down at him.At first sight, Harry appeared to have changed little since boyhood: the same smooth, regular features, aquiline nose, heavy-lidded eyes, smoky-black eyebrows and lashes.But what moonlight could conceal, it could also reveal.Were those faint lines around that well-shaped mouth?And were there really shadows under his eyes, creases on his forehead?Ginny sighed inaudibly._He bears the burdens of us all, she thought, __and I am his Achilles heel.I make him vulnerable, I expose him to danger, and yet I am also his reason for living.Doesn't he realise how close I came to betraying him?Betraying all of us?And can he not see that because I did not turn traitor, I took on a life debt?_

A faint scratching from the window made Ginny turn her head quickly.Silently, she rose from the bed and crossed to the balcony, slipping the catch and opening the door just enough for her to slide through.The freezing wind knifed through her thin nightdress, but she closed the door behind her in case the cold air caused Harry to wake.Pretty soon she was shivering.

"GinnyWheezy!GinnyWheezy!Is that you?"A hoarse whisper broke the silence.

"Dobby?"She replied, and in response a diminutive figure climbed silently over the balcony to stand before her.Ginny stared in astonishment.

"Dobby!" she exclaimed, trying to keep her voice down."You didn't have to make a personal visit – a message would have been good enough."Dobby shook his head.

"Dobby thought it was best he come to see GinnyWheezy himself." He replied still in a whisper."Dobby knows messages can go to the wrong people.Dobby is afraid of getting you into trouble."Ginny smiled as best she could over chattering teeth.

"That was kind of you, Dobby." She replied."I'm afraid I can't ask you in because Harry's asleep."Dobby shook his head.

"Dobby must be getting back to Hogwarts.Dobby will say what he has come to say."He drew himself upright as though he was reciting a poem.

"Dobby says All Debts Are Now Paid." He told her with emphasis."Now Dobby must be going."He climbed back onto the balcony wall.

"Wait!"Ginny held up a hand."You mean – he escaped?"Dobby nodded.

"Dobby gave him the wand, Dobby loosened his chains." Was the reply."He asked Dobby who had sent him.Dobby did not tell."

"But did he get away?" She stared at the little elf, real urgency in her eyes.He nodded.

"Yes." he replied."Dobby knows he got away, but the Master … " The elf stopped himself with a gesture of annoyance and tried again."The-one-who-was-Master, Dobby means, was very angry.He is looking, searching."He shook his head fearfully."Dobby would not like to be the one he was searching for – no he wouldn't!"Ginny let out a shaky breath.She swallowed hard and turned back to her diminutive visitor.

"Thank you very much for your help, Dobby."She raised a hand in farewell."I'm very grateful to you – you don't know how grateful."Dobby bowed his head.

"Dobby is always to help HarryPotter, or anyone who is his." Was the fading response as the House Elf retreated silently into the darkness.Ginny stood until the sounds of his retreat had faded into silence.She bit her lip: she had known it would have been pointless and possibly counterproductive to ask Dobby not to mention his little escapade to Harry.The elf would not have understood the need for secrecy, and even if he had, he would have been shocked to think that Ginny would act on something so serious without Harry's knowledge.Dobby could be very old-fashioned at times.But even so, she wished she could be sure that her interference would remain undetected.

Almost quaking with cold, Ginny went quickly back into the bedroom, pausing only to put on her bathrobe.She crossed to her dressing table and opened a draw, taking out a small casket.From a china bowl she removed a tiny gold key and unlocked the little box.It was a jewellery casket containing Ginny's small collection of valuable items: a gold locket containing photographs of her family; a silver brooch once belonging to her grandmother, given to her by her mother on her eighteenth birthday; a pretty watch, no longer working and never particularly valuable but cherished because Fred had picked it up for her in Hong Kong; and a heavy gold chain which was Harry's Christmas present last year.There was also another item, concealed in a small black box, which she carefully withdrew and studied closely for a while.It was a rosebud, still as fresh as the day she had received it, tiny and perfect.Except for the fact that it was totally black.Sighing, she returned it to its nest of satin, stroking it lightly.

"All debts are now paid." She murmured quietly as she put it away, hoping against hope that she spoke the truth.

~oo0oo~

Over the busy streets of London, a young witch swerved her broomstick between the clouds, alternately peering at the ground and consulting a small piece of parchment.The rising exhaust fumes caused her to cough and splutter, hindering her efforts at mapreading.

"Really!" she exclaimed, wiping her watering eyes on a handkerchief."Why anyone should want to work in such a place is beyond belief.Even Glasgow is better – at least you can get from A to B without suffocating in the process!"Taking another squint at her parchment and a quick glance at the streets below, she angled her broomstick for descent._And let's hope I get it right this time.She thought grimly.__Memory charms are all very well, but they really do take it out of you with constant use._

Ginny was concentrating hard, sweat trickling down her back and between her breasts.Her loose, khaki-coloured vest had damp patches and her shorts were sticking to her bare legs.She ignored the discomfort, her arms and legs moving in a smooth ballet over the wooden floor – ultimate balance, ultimate control.Her lips were still, but Harry knew she was silently repeating her mantra: _Bu Tiu Bu Ding_ (not letting go, not resisting).

Harry was watching his partner work during a break in his own fitness routine.Dressed casually in sweats, his hair practically on end, he pressed his nose against the glass partition, enjoying the sight of her in action.

"Mr. Potter, sir."The voice of a security guard interrupted his reverie.Harry looked up.

"What is it, Jenkins?"The burly man looked a little shamefaced.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but there's a lady wanting to see you.I told her you were unavailable, but I'm afraid she wouldn't take no for an answer …"

"Harry?" The burly security guard was peremptorily shoved aside to reveal a young witch wearing thick flying clothes and clutching a broomstick.Harry frowned, looking into her face half hidden by her hat.Impatiently, she tugged it off: long blonde hair fell over her shoulders.Harry's jaw dropped.

"Lavender?Good grief, what are you doing here?"He turned to the security guard.

"It's alright, Jenkins, the young lady is a friend of mine.We were at Hogwarts together.Thank you very much, you can go back to Reception now."Jenkins was not at all happy at the prospect of leaving a strange witch with one of his VIW members, but he nodded unwillingly and set of back down the corridor, still casting black looks over his shoulder.

Harry turned to the girl and helped her off with her thick flying cloak.

"Well," he began, "This _is_ a surprise!We haven't seen you since Ron and Hermione's wedding."Lavender Brown slung her cloak over her arm and pushed her damp hair out of her eyes with a sigh.

"I know, Harry." she replied with chagrin."It's been a very long time indeed, and the fact that Aurelius and I both live in Edinburgh is not really much of an excuse for a couple of wizards, is it?"Harry gestured towards the cafeteria.

"Come and have some coffee." He suggested. "You look as though you could do with it."Lavender shook her head.

"Maybe later, Harry." she replied."I'm afraid this is not a social call, much as I would like it to be."

"Oh?" Harry was interested."Not something to discuss in a cafe then?"Lavender looked slightly awkward.

"My business is actually with Ginny, not with you." She admitted."I've come straight from Wizarding Radio – Ernie MacMillan told me she'd be here with you."Harry nodded.

"That's right."Lavender looked around.

"Is she about?" she asked."It's really rather urgent – at least, I _think_ it is."With a half-smile, Harry nodded towards the glass partition.Uncomprehendingly, Lavender looked through into the room beyond.

"Flamel's Stone!" she muttered."I had no idea Ginny was into Kung Fu – or whatever that is."

"Tai Chi, actually." Harry corrected her gently, rather enjoying Lavender's startled reaction.

"She won't be very much longer." He continued."She's nearing the end of it now and I guess she'll need a break – and a drink."He grinned at Lavender.

"Are you sure you don't want to tell me the gist of it?Ginny and I do work as a team you know?"Lavender shook her head again.

"I'll wait for her to finish." She said firmly.

"Hey Harry!"They both swung round as a wiry, fit-looking black guy with a wide oriental smile and a bandanna around his head sauntered up the corridor, swinging a battered sports bag bearing the legend "No cat gonna catch _this_ Mouse!" in neon green.Harry grinned and gave the man a mock-salute.The newcomer cocked his head in the direction of the glass partition.

"She finished yet?"Harry shook his head.

"Couple of minutes."The black man nodded, pursing his lips.

"She asked me for a session later this morning." He explained, his eyes gleaming."After I get through with you."Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah?" he countered."Sure you'll have the strength?"The other grinned broadly, not at all phased, and suddenly threw his bag directly at Harry's stomach.Harry caught it, but could not suppress a sudden expulsion of breath.The other cackled with laughter, pointing a long index finger.

"I take fifteen minutes warm-up," he cautioned."Then your ass is _mine_, man!"

"You and whose army?" demanded Harry, lobbing the bag back with equal force.The black man caught it easily.

"Me, myself and my two hands, partner," he replied."And don't you forget it!"Flipping Harry an irreverent salute, he sauntered off to the changing rooms.Harry glanced through the glass partition to check on Ginny's progress.As he did so, he became aware of Lavender tugging at his arm, looking highly disturbed about something.

"Harry," she began furtively."I know this is a respectable wizarding gym, I had it checked out before I came, but I'm terribly afraid I can't be wrong – that man is a – a _muggle!_"Harry nodded.

"That's right." He replied.Lavender's jaw dropped.

"But Harry," she began, absolutely aghast."What on earth do you think you're doing patronising a place which employs muggles?I mean, do you know anything about him?Is he, well, safe?"Harry suppressed a smile.

"Oh, yes, he's perfectly safe, Lavender," he began mildly."If you're on the right side of him, that it.Otherwise …" he trailed off expressively.Her eyes became as round as dinner plates and she started to glance apprehensively around her.

"Are there – any more?" she whispered.Harry fought off the desire to laugh.

"More muggle employees?Well, no actually.He's the first and only one."Harry took pity on her.

"Look, Lavender," he began."His name is Mouse.He's not actually employed by the gym.He works for the Ministry as a consultant in unarmed combat, and I was largely instrumental in getting him the contract.He's one of the good guys – trust me!"What Harry didn't tell Lavender was that his own friendship with Mouse dated from the time the latter single-handedly rescued him from a gang of thugs who attacked him in the Los Angeles subway.It had taken a while, but Harry eventually persuaded Mouse to exchange the life of a vigilante for the apparent respectability of a Ministry employee.Money, status, the opportunity for travel – none of these had amounted to a hill of beans in Mouse's world.However, once he realised that Harry could fly broomsticks, he had been on the next plane: 

"I always knew the stories my Grandaddy told me was true!This beats everything!"

Lavender's face was still grave and disapproving, but fortunately she had no time to give voice to her objections as at that moment, Ginny emerged from the gym room, wiping sweat off her face with the hem of her vest.She stopped short on seeing Lavender.

"What a lovely surprise!" she exclaimed, running towards her."I'll wait till I've showered to give you a proper greeting." She smiled, then turned to Harry, kissing him damply on the cheek. "Mouse is ready for you." 

"Hey," teased Harry mournfully. "You wait to shower before kissing Lavender, but not me? Ouch!"She punched him playfully in the shoulder.

"Watch the bodywork!" He growled, running a hand over his arm.She grinned playfully.

"Always did, Harry." she replied gaily."Always did!"

Ginny led Lavender into the cafeteria and ordered drinks.

"I've another session due after Mouse is done with Harry." she told her."So you'll excuse me if I don't shower now.I'll just get my sweats so I won't stiffen up."

Lavender sat at the table, slowly sipping the fragrant Java brew until Ginny was ready for her to begin.

"Now," the pretty redhead sat at attention, having downed half a litre of mineral water.I'm all ears.What is it, Lavender?Are you and Aurelius thinking of getting married and want some advice?'Cause if you are, I'd say Hermione or Percy's wife, Penny would be better at that than me."Lavender shook her head firmly, but Ginny noticed a faint trace of pink in her cheeks.

"Nothing like that, Ginny." She began."I'm actually acting as an emissary from another party."

"Oh?"Ginny's tone was wary, but her eyes said "Tell me more".Lavender continued.

"I'm here on behalf of Professor Telawney." She began, and then at Ginny's blank look, "You know, the Divination Professor at Hogwarts."

"Oh, yes." said Ginny quickly."Of course I remember, it's just that I can't imagine for one moment why she'd want to contact me."Lavender paused.

"Now Ginny," she began. "I know that most of your family, and Hermione too, were never particularly sympathetic towards the scrying arts when you were at Hogwarts, and please don't think that I'm trying to pull you into anything dodgy, it's just that – well – Professor Trelawney never leaves Hogwarts you know, otherwise I'm sure she'd have come in person, and she was really very urgent about my going to see you myself, not sending a message or anything, and despite all you might say about her, I really believe this is important …"

"Lavender."Ginny put a hand on her former colleague's arm, breaking off her words."What does she want?"

"She wants you to come to Hogwarts."Lavender responded with a rush."She urgently needs to speak with you – honestly I've never seen her so determined.Please say you'll come?"Ginny frowned, pursing her lips thoughtfully.

"But what does she want to talk to me about?"Lavender shrugged.

"She didn't say exactly."

"Not _exactly_?Lavender, if she didn't say _exactly_, what _did_ she say?"Lavender sighed.

"Oh, dear." She muttered, then looked up. "Ginny, please give me your word you'll come with me back to Hogwarts."

"Then you'll tell me?"

"After you give your word."Ginny considered, then shrugged.How difficult could it be?They could Apparate or Port to Hogsmeade Station, then take a horseless carriage to the school.She would only be away for a few hours at most.

"Alright Lavender, I promise."

"Okay." Lavender took a deep breath."I think – I'm not sure, mind, but I _think_ – she's had a Seeing."It was such an anticlimax after Lavender's tremendous build-up that Ginny nodded, waiting expectantly for the rest.

"That – that's it." said Lavender, uncertainly.Ginny stared.

"That's _all_?" she replied incredulously."Just that?Prof. T.'s had another funny turn, so we've all got to go stand on our heads?Oh damn and blast it, Lavender!If I'd known that was all it was, I'd never have promised to go with you.Now I've got to waste the afternoon getting to Hogwarts, attend a tea party I'd really rather miss with a muddle-headed old trout whose teaching didn't even make sense the first time round, and likely have her on my back about my destiny for ever after into the bargain!"

"Please, Ginny!"Lavender looked stricken."I'm sorry you're taking it this way."

"Oh, don't worry, I'll still come – if that's what's bothering you." Ginny put her glass down on the table with unnecessary force."I made a promise, I'll keep it.Please just excuse me while I rearrange my life to suit you, okay?"Lavender didn't respond, just stared at Ginny with pleading eyes.The redhead slammed her chair into the table and stalked out towards the showers without another word.

~oo0oo~

"How do I manage to get myself into these situations?" Ginny asked herself as she and Lavender stood outside Hogsmeade Station in the falling snow, waiting for a carriage to take them to Hogwarts.Her breath made smoke in the freezing air and she stamped her booted feet, trying to keep warm.As far as she could make out, they were the only living creatures for miles around.

"Lavender, you might have seen fit to tell me there's a Severe Weather Warning out for this area!"Her friend shrugged.

"I thought you realised that Hogwarts is in Scotland." She retorted."The further north you go, the colder the weather tends to be – surely that's obvious!"Ginny didn't bother to respond.

"Look!Here it is."The carriage swept smoothly into the station approach and stopped at their feet.The door opened silently and the girls clambered in, relieved to be out of the wind and snow.The journey was short: there was scarcely time for their hands and faces to thaw out before the vehicle slowed to a halt and the door opened once again, bringing a swirl of snowflakes in its wake.Shivering, they clambered out and half-ran, half-slid over the cobbles towards the main door of the castle.Fortunately someone was waiting for them.

"Come in quickly and shut the door on this dreadful cold.Goodness!You can imagine I gave Sybil Trelawney a piece of my mind when I found out what she'd done.Dragging you all this way, and in such weather too!And for what, I have to ask?How many of her ramblings have turned out to be of any use to man or beast?"Ginny wiped snow out of her eyes and looked up.

"Professor Sprout!" she exclaimed.

"The very same." The grey-haired, dumpy little witch smiled genially at her former pupils."It's nice to see you again so soon, my dears.Perhaps we'll get a chance to talk this time – funerals are so difficult, don't you think?"Ginny smiled back and removed her wet cloak.She shivered.Noticing this, the Professor hustled the two girls away from the front door and up the main staircase.

"Professor McGonagall would have come to greet you herself, but she's tied up at present," She told them over her shoulder."And I'm afraid I'll have to leave you to warm yourselves by the Staffroom fire for a while, as I've got Hufflepuff and Gryffindor Seventh Years joining me in the greenhouses in ten minutes' time.Don't worry, I'll send one of the Prefects to take you up to Sibyl – when she's ready to receive you, of course!"Professor Sprout rolled her eyes and opened the Staffroom door, ushering them in.Lavender, wide-eyed and apprehensive, entered the room rather diffidently, but Ginny had spied the roaring fire at one end and made for it eagerly.The two girls spread out their cloaks to dry and eased their soggy footwear.

"Do you know," said Lavender, looking around thoughtfully, "Apart from Professor Lupin's lesson with the boggart in our third year, I don't think I've ever set foot in this room before."Ginny shook her head and leant closer to the fire, trying to rub some warmth into her hands.

"Nor me." She replied."This was something of a hallowed place when we were students, wasn't it?No one would have dared to come in without permission."

"Exactly as it should be." Interjected a nasal voice from the back of the room.The two girls swung round in surprise.Ginny stood up.

"Oh!" she said, her eyes slowly adjusting to the shadows.A black-clad figure with lank hair and a hooked nose was sitting at a table apparently marking scrolls.

"Professor Snape."She said finally."I'm sorry if we disturbed you.Professor Sprout said we could wait here until Professor Trelawney is ready to receive us."Snape made a wordless sound of disgust: whether it was directed towards the two girls or to the absent Professor herself, Ginny could not tell.At a loss as to what to say next, she cast around in her store of polite pleasantries.

"You may be aware that several of us are now living together in London, Professor."She began.He didn't answer but continued to glare balefully at her.

"Ron and Hermione Weasley send their regards." She continued, weakly."So does Harry."Snape snorted and threw down his quill.

"If you insist on wasting my time wittering, Miss Weasley," he snarled,"Kindly refrain from insulting my intelligence with obvious lies."Lavender drew in a startled breath.Ginny's face froze.

"I beg your pardon, _Professor Snape_," she said in low tones, "But would you mind explaining that last remark."

"Certainly, _Miss Weasley_." He responded in careful mimicry."Many things are possible in this world, including the faint prospect that the voluble Dr. Granger would send her good wishes to me.However, I would venture a guess that hell would have to freeze over several times before your youngest brother would allow my name to pass his lips without a curse.As for the Famous Harry Potter, pah!" He made a disgusted noise and turned back to his marking.

"Does that answer your question, Miss Weasley?" he demanded without looking up.

"Not really, Professor Snape."He looked up in surprise.Ginny swallowed bile.Something rather unexpected had happened to her while he had been speaking.All the bitterness and resentment that she had harboured against this man over her years at Hogwarts, for herself and for those she loved, suddenly rose up anew in a flood of anger.She thought she had forgotten and forgiven, she thought these things didn't matter any more, she had risen above them – only to discover that this was very far from the truth.

"Frankly, Professor," she began calmly, "If you had behaved with the slightest scrap of decency to any of your pupils, particularly Harry, while they were here in your care, you might not have turned out to be the bitter, friendless individual you obviously are."Lavender gasped.Snape's surprise quickly turned to contempt.

"I see the past few years have deprived you of even the small amount of intelligence you had as a student." He told her with venom."It goes with the territory, Miss Weasley: choosing redemption over a lifetime of evil doesn't automatically make one into a "nice person"."The last two words were bitten off as though they tasted nasty.Ginny paused staring, then her shoulders drooped.

"I'm sorry for you." She said gently, sincerely."I guess you can't just forget about a Dark Mark – even when its creator is dead."Snape uttered an oath that sent Lavender's hands to her mouth in shock.He rose from his chair and advanced on the girls, his face twisted with a mixture of anger and a famished hunger.

"If you believe that," he rasped, staring into Ginny's eyes with hatred, "Then you're a greater fool than your lover!"

"Alright!" she returned with spirit. "Not dead – no longer here, then.Is that more appropriate?"Snape scoffed at her, but without any real malice.He paced the room, then turned back to them.

"When Potter defeated Voldemort, I felt part of my power drain away." He explained. "Since then it has waxed and waned without any real reasoning behind it, but it was at its strongest during early summer last year.And I am not the only one to feel these trends – you would be surprised how far the ripples have spread."He looked her piercingly in the eyes."Tell Potter that as far as Voldemort is concerned, we are all better off if the status quo remains unchanged.It would be Armageddon if he were to return, but his final destruction could be equally catastrophic."Ginny stared hard into his eyes, but could discern no trace of falsehood.She nodded gravely.

Abruptly the tableau was broken by a knock on the Staffroom door.Lavender darted forward to open it revealing a Prefect who announced that she was to take the two girls to Professor Trelawney's tower.Snape sloped back to glower over his marking, failing even to raise his head at their muted farewells.

Out in the corridor, Lavender gave trembling voice to what she had heard from Snape in the Staffroom, ignoring Ginny's increasingly urgent attempts to silence her, at least within earshot of their guide.Finally, unable to bear the near-hysterical blethering, she unsheathed her wand and pointed it furtively at Lavender.

"_Obliviate!_" she whispered.A thin stream of golden light wrapped itself around Lavender's head.She staggered slightly and put out a hand to Ginny's arm.

"Are you okay?" Ginny looked into her face.Lavender was wearing the relaxed but slightly perplexed look of someone whose memory had been successfully altered.Three or four yards ahead of them, the Prefect stopped and turned back enquiringly.

"Yes, I think so." Lavender replied."Just felt a little dizzy, that's all."She turned to look at Ginny.

"I'm sorry," she said with a puzzled frown. "I'm afraid I've forgotten what I was saying."Ginny patted her arm, smiling.

"Don't worry about it." She said soothingly. "We're almost there anyhow."The two girls prepared to ascend the silver ladder to Professor Trelawney's domain.

~oo0oo~

Ron was making tea.This was not a task he enjoyed, nor was he particularly good at it, but Hermione was resting on the sofa in conversation with Harry, and Ron was playing the devoted husband.George had also dropped round to borrow a reference book from Hermione – something about a new joke/trick on the market, Ron hadn't bothered to listen in detail.As he directed the tea things, he glanced around the kitchen.Yes, it was light, airy and full of all the modern conveniences, but this was after all a flat: the kitchen was anything but large._How did four blokes manage to exist in this small space?_ He wondered.Perhaps none of them had ever cooked._Well, that might be true of Lee and myself_, he decided, _but both George and particularly Oliver were always cooking something._He shook his head._I can't see us coping with a baby in this small room – you need floor space for the child to crawl around, somewhere to put the highchair when they're not using it, I just can't see how we're going to manage here._

A strange trilling as of birdsong suddenly filled the flat.

"I'll get it." shouted George, and went to answer the door.Ron grinned and shrugged: his Nightingale Doorbell was no worse than the Lion Doorknocker at Harry's house, and it was much more suitable for a flat, he told himself.A burst of excited chatter drew him out of the kitchen to find his sister standing in the middle of the living room waving a piece of parchment in their faces.

"… and she said it was automatic writing – she didn't remember doing it!"Hermione was sitting up with a sceptical expression on her face.

"Professor Trelawney had a genuine prophetic moment?" she started to laugh."Come on, Ginny, pull the other one.Most of what she teaches is muggle superstition.The crystal ball and the cards can be a focus, I'll grant you, but in order to get real _bona fide_ results, you have to have real _bona fide_ talent, and our dear Sibyl, I'm afraid …" she trailed off, waving her hands expressively.

"That's exactly what I said to Lavender," Ginny shot back quickly. "But this time was quite different from any other encounter I've had with her in the past.She seemed – genuinely worried, almost scared by the whole thing."

Ginny cast her mind back to the dim light, the roaring fire and the soporific fumes of incense and perfume.

~oo0oo~

_Professor Trelawney had been present in the room when they entered through the trapdoor, but instead of reclining languidly in one of the armchairs, she was standing by the fireplace, pacing backwards and forwards, displaying more agitation than Ginny had believed her capable of._

_ _

_As soon as she caught sight of the girls, she embraced Lavender warmly._

_ _

_"Thank you, my dear." She said in a trembling voice. "Thank you so much for bringing her here.Now, I'm sorry to ask you this, but what I have to say to Ginny could be very important, and the fewer people who know about it, the better.Could I possibly ask you to go back to the Staffroom and wait for her there?"Lavender, looking rather crestfallen, remembered Snape's presence in the staffroom and shook her head firmly, giving a small shudder.She turned to Ginny._

_ _

_"Not there." She told her firmly.Ginny nodded._

_ _

_"No," Lavender continued, "I'll collect our cloaks and go wait by the fire in the entrance hall."_

_ _

_"Thanks, Lavender."Ginny was sorry to see her friend leave: she had been looking forward to Lavender's support during what promised to be a difficult interview._

_ _

_Strangely, fear seemed to have stiffened Professor Trelawney's spine.She became more businesslike and straightforward than Ginny had ever seen her._

_ _

_"Ginny." She began. "I won't waste your time or mine.This is too important an issue for me to do anything other than take immediate action."She paused and paced the room a couple of times._

_ _

_"Where to begin, that is the difficulty."She muttered, then drew herself upright and turned back to Ginny, clearly having made up her mind. _

_ _

_"For some months now, I have been troubled by visions."She began."They have never been lucid enough for me to read clearly, but their import was always quite evident: danger.Danger for whom, how and when I was never able to grasp – until now."She turned to her table and picked up a small piece of parchment._

_ _

_"A few days ago I went into a trance." She began, with a frown."It was most unexpected and highly inconvenient as I was teaching a class of third years at the time.Fortunately," here her face softened slightly."Fortunately, one of their number is both interested and talented enough to know not to disturb me, but to simply wait and record anything I might do or say for future analysis."She paused, lacing and interlacing her fingers in agitation._

_ _

_"As it happened, there was no need for any interference."She held out the piece of parchment to Ginny.There, in a spidery hand which seemed somehow familiar, was written six short lines of text, no more.Ginny read them quickly then looked up uncomprehendingly.A flicker of impatience passed over Professor Trelawney's face._

_ _

_"It's a prophecy, dear." She replied."Surely even one such as you who has only – shall we say _limited _abilities can see that."At a loss for words, Ginny re-examined the parchment and frowned._

_ _

_"Professor Trelawney, this isn't your handwriting."The older woman shook her head._

_ _

_"Indeed not, my dear." She replied with some satisfaction."And to answer the question you were no doubt going to ask me, I'm afraid I have no idea whose hand it might be."_

_ _

_"It seems familiar …" Ginny trailed off, trying to dig back in her memories.She looked up again._

_ _

_"Professor, may I take this with me?I'd like Harry and Ron to see it."The Professor smiled._

_ _

_"Please do, my dear." She replied."Take it and be done!My part is finished.Now I can go back to my pleasant anonymity, my dreaming tower, in the knowledge that I have done my duty."Ginny didn't think she could stand much more of this.She tucked the piece of parchment in her handbag, nodding to her old Professor._

_ _

_"Thank you very much." She said, turning to go. "I think perhaps I had better start making tracks back to London now."Professor Trelawney looked stricken._

_ _

_"Can you not stay a little longer?Some tea, perhaps?"Ginny winced inwardly at the gleam in the Professor's eye._She wants to read my destiny, _she thought with rising panic._

_ _

_"I would love to, Professor," she returned quickly, "But your information is far too important to be kept waiting.I'd like to get home in time to show this to Ron and Harry – maybe Hermione too, if she's available."A shadow passed over Professor Trelawney's face._

_ _

_"Ah yes." she said querulously."The redoubtable Dr. Granger."_

_ _

_"Mrs. Weasley now." returned Ginny, hoping to forestall any reminiscences."Thank you so much Professor.Don't worry – I'll see myself out." _

_ _

_And with that she let herself down the silver ladder, along the corridors and back to the entrance hall without getting lost once._

~oo0oo~

Ginny produced the scrap of parchment and silently handed it to Ron, who was nearest.He moved it quickly to where Hermione could see it, and George and Harry promptly crowded round to get a glimpse of the words:

_Has the Bond been sealed?_

_No, there is resistance._

_Can it be overcome?_

_Yes, but only the power of the Old magic can achieve it._

_How can this be found?_

_With the aid of the Syrinx._

There was a profound silence.

"Well, that looks like a load of old codswallop to me!" Hermione had never been one to mince her words where Professor Trelawney was concerned.Ron was nodding.

"I think her record of workable prophecies is likely to remain at two, don't you agree, Harry?"Harry was shaking his head.

"I can't make any sense of it." He admitted."The Syrinx?With a capital 'S'?And what sort of bond are we talking about here?Legal?Financial?"Hermione smiled sympathetically at Ginny.

"I can understand your irritation," She told her. "And I hope you made Lavender buy you lunch for dragging you all the way to Hogwarts for such drivel!"Ginny shrugged.

"I got something at the station." She replied indifferently, then turned to George who was studying the piece of parchment intently with a very strange expression.

"I don't want to put ideas in your heads," he began, "But does anyone recognise the handwriting?"He handed the parchment back and they all pored over it a second time.Harry frowned.

"If I didn't know better," he began thoughtfully, "I'd say it was Albus Dumbledore's.It's been a number of years since I've seen anything he wrote, but he had a very distinctive hand."He looked up and met George's eye.George nodded.

"I thought so too." He said quietly."Now if you'll give me that parchment, I'll see if I can't get a comparison made at the Ministry.If I talk nicely to Dad's secretary, she'll get it through on priority."

"Wait a moment."Hermione heaved herself off the sofa and made for her study.A few minutes later she returned with a large box file.

"If I'm not mistaken," she muttered as she began sifting through a mass of rather old-looking papers, "I do have a sample of his handwriting.It's a reference he gave me when I applied to join my chambers – ah, here it is!"She pulled a rather yellow, faded scroll with a Hogwarts seal from a protective tube and handed it to George.He unrolled it, studying it closely and comparing it with Professor Trelawney's sample.After a few moments he sighed heavily and handed the two items to Ron.

"I don't pretend to be an expert," he said. "But I've had a little training and I can spot an obvious forgery.Those loops and tails are identical, and the way he forms a capital 'O' is quite unusual.What do you think, Ron?Your training's a little more recent than mine."Ron was shaking his head.

"Either Professor Trelawney is the best forger I've ever come across," he said."Or this is The Real McCoy."He looked at George.His brother took the parchment and asked Ron if he could borrow Pigwidgeon for a while.Ron went to fetch his by now rather elderly owl while Hermione found a waterproof pouch for the document.She was copying the words out neatly into a notebook when a flurry of wings sent everyone in the room ducking and protecting their heads.Pig might be older, wiser and larger than in his Hogwarts days, but he was still as hyperactive as ever.

"Another prophecy." Ginny remarked to Harry while George penned a brief note to Arthur."You know, the last one sparked off this mind-bonding thing we've got.Or rather haven't got at present."Harry nodded, his eyes full of sympathy.

"And you'd like to entertain the hope that this one will make it work?Oh, Ginny!"She shrugged, smiling.

"A girl can dream."Harry's arm tightened round her shoulders.

"Syrinx translates out as panpipes." Hermione announced, staring fixedly at her notebook."Pan was a woodland god who liked nothing better than to chase down and seduce females. One day Syrinx, the daughter of the river god Ladon, if I remember correctly, walked along the riverbank near Pan's territory. When Pan saw her, he set out in hot pursuit and chased her for quite some time.When he finally got close enough to reach out for her, she screamed out to her father to protect her. Ladon, rather unhelpfully, changed her into a clump of reeds.Pan waited for a long time for Syrinx to change back, but she never did, so he picked the reeds and, for reasons best known to himself, fastened them together in a horizontal line with stopped ends. When he blew across the upper end, he found he had made a musical instrument. And that, my friends, is how the Syrinx, or panpipes, were invented."She looked up at Harry.

"So," she said thoughtfully, "Do you think this Syrinx might be some kind of – magical musical artefact?"Harry shook his head slowly.

"If it is, it's a new one on me." he admitted, "However, that doesn't mean it doesn't exist – there are many magical objects out there with no provenance whatsoever just waiting for people like me to uncover their existence and go hunting.This could easily be one of them."Hermione frowned.

"I think this might be a job for Professor Ratcliffe." She announced."George, If the handwriting does turn out to be Albus Dumbledore's, have the parchment owled to him at the World Wizard Library: I'd like him to have a look at it before we meet up again next Tuesday."Ron smiled at Harry.

"Same old Hermione." He murmured."Whatever the problem, hit the library."

"I heard that Ron!" she retorted, sweeping out into the kitchen with the tea tray.

~oo0oo~


	5. Three Witches

Sorcerors' Endgame

Disclaimer:_This story is written for the purposes of my own amusement and, hopefully, that of my readers, and no profit of any kind is being generated by it or by either of its prequels.All characters and history belong to J.K. Rowling and to whomsoever she has licensed her creations at the present time.I own the plot and the odd original character, nothing else._

Thanks once again to all who reviewed – keep 'em coming, they make me write faster. The only credit I need to give here is to, believe it or not, "Terminator II".If you've seen the film, you'll know what I mean when you read the final section.

** **

**Sorcerors' Endgame** A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Penpusher Sequel to "By the Pricking of My Thumbs" 

**Chapter Five: Three Witches******

The apartment was old-fashioned but not shabby, showing signs of care in the decoration and cleanliness.Its high ceilings and large sash windows readily identified it as part of a Georgian building, probably a conversion.The period furniture, discreet antiques and modest but original watercolours hanging from the picture rails revealed its owner not only to have good taste, but also the resources to indulge it.The property was substantial, with several well-proportioned rooms and a large, graceful hallway, at present being paced in silent agitation by a woman.

She was scarcely in her first flush of youth, but the carefully tinted hair and well-cut clothes would have earned her second glances from men a good deal younger – if her face were not showing every day of her age in lines of worry and strain.Her endless pacing threatened to wear a track in the carpet.Every now and then she would stop by a closed doorway and reach out a tentative hand, only to snatch it back in irritation and resume her restless motion.Finally she stopped and leaned her forehead against the wall.

"Damned if I do and damned if I don't." she muttered under her breath.Abruptly, she snatched a black leather handbag from a small ornamental table and made for the front door.Just as suddenly, she halted by the closed door again, frozen in agonised indecision.She gave a trembling sigh and grasped the handle, turning it silently, easing the door open a crack.

The room beyond was dark, daylight held at bay by drawn curtains.From the doorway could be seen fitted wardrobes, dressing table, chair and nightstand.The room was decorated in muted pastels, with a distinctly feminine feel both to the curtains and to the covers of the large double bed.Sprawled in a tangle of bedclothes at its centre was a young man.The woman gazed at him silently, noting that the sheets had ridden down his body, leaving him naked to the waist.Pale, flawless skin, almost hairless, just a faint, soft trail from his navel, leading downwards until it disappeared under apricot Egyptian cotton.So beautiful!She felt hunger reawaken but firmly checked an almost overwhelming impulse to enter the room once again.As she watched he sighed in his sleep, turning over on to his stomach, the half-light gleaming off his shoulders.His fair skin and blonde hair made him seem translucent, somehow insubstantial against the whiteness of the sheets.Untouchable?In spirit, if not in flesh.Vulnerable?Maybe.His body rose and fell in the deep, rhythmic breaths of unconsciousness, and his limbs lay bonelessly in total relaxation. If he remained undisturbed, the woman decided, he would not wake for a while: she had been careful to ensure that, if nothing else.Cursing her own sentimental foolishness, she closed the door quietly and resumed pacing, biting her fingernails with agitation.Giving way to the temptation to look at him just once more had not helped her to make a decision.

"What to do?What to do?" she moaned out loud, wringing her hands."Why did you have to come to me?Wasn't there anyone else who could help you?"She paced a few more times.Her fingers were bleeding.She scarcely noticed.

"Sanctuary and information!" she began again in a hoarse whisper."That's not much to ask, now is it?Not much!It will cost me my life if a whisper of this gets out.I told you – sanctuary is impossible, not against your father.And what about the Ministry?They scarcely believed my innocence over the Weasley girl – they're still watching me, waiting for me to make one little slip.You owe me on that one, my boy!You really screwed us all over that: no wonder your father wants your entrails as a wall hanging."She paused for breath.

"And why drag up old family tragedy that should have been buried and forgotten long ago?Your sister's long dead, she died in infancy.What of?How should I know – I didn't meet your father until you had left school.Since when am I an expert on the Malfoy family?No, I've no idea who could give you that sort of information.You could always try the family solicitor, hah, hah!Oh, I forgot – you can't, you're on the run.Oh, gods!"The woman buried her face in her hands with a dry sob.Presently she lifted her head and stiffened her spine. Obviously she had come to some sort of decision.Quickly, before she could change her mind again, she grabbed a calf-length leather coat from the hall cupboard and struggled into it impatiently.She glanced once more at the occupied bedroom door.

"I'm sorry." She whispered."I really am, but I just can't do this.I've got my own life, my own safety to think of.I'm already between a rock and a hard place, I can't afford to help you any more."She left the flat swiftly and silently.

The figure in the bed continued his slumber for several more minutes until the total silence in the apartment made it apparent that the woman had indeed left the premises.He then opened cautious, slitted eyes, turned over and lay on his back for a while, fighting the almost irresistible urge to sleep.Presently he levered himself out of the bed with difficulty, staggered naked and blinking to where his clothes lay in a rough pile and fumbled for his wand.

"_Enervate!_"he muttered, pointing the wand at his own chest.Immediately his body lost its sluggishness, his eyes their heaviness.He straightened slowly and replaced the wand in its holster.

"Oh, Octavia." He murmured to himself, shaking his head regretfully, but his eyes were steely.

Twenty minutes later, having showered, dressed, and eaten most of the meagre food supplies in the kitchen, the blonde young man shrugged on a thick winter overcoat and let himself quietly out of the front door, taking the stairs down to ground level.In the vestibule, he stopped briefly by a row of postboxes. His eyes lingered on one in particular labelled "O. Tenaxis, Theatrical Agent".With nimble fingers, he extracted the small card from its holder, crumpled it and deposited the remains in a nearby wastepaper bin.Somehow he didn't think she'd be needing it again.He turned up his collar against the falling snow and stepped out into the street.

~oo0oo~

"Oh, I'm just so fed up with being sick!"Hermione complained bitterly as she came out of the bathroom for the fourth time that morning.Ron looked at her sympathetically, but he had come to realise that to comment or make any kind of suggestion would only bring scorn and contempt down upon his head for displaying typical male stupidity and ignorance.He realised that Hermione was taking it out on him because she had no other way of expressing her frustration, and he did after all bear half the responsibility, even if he was suffering none of the consequences – so far.He slipped into the kitchen and started to make some tea.Presently he brought a tray through containing a teapot, a single cup, a plate of dry toast, a pot of honey and the owl post.Hermione, prostrate on the sofa, smiled weakly.

"I'm a really awful patient, aren't I?" she sighed.Ron shrugged.

"You've just been unlucky." He replied diplomatically, setting the tray down on a small table beside her."Not that many women suffer sickness all day, every day.So I've read."She gave him a brief, bright smile.

"Have I ever told you how wonderful you are?" she said, gazing up at him.He stroked her hair.

"Not recently, no."She captured the stroking hand and brought it to her lips.

"Consider it said." She replied,"One hundred times at least."Ron smiled, gave her a brief but warm farewell kiss and went to don his cold weather gear before braving the elements.He bore Hermione no ill will for her waspishness and was as patient a helpmeet as any wife could wish for.

But he was terribly glad he could escape to work.

Hermione lay on the sofa fighting down nausea.Presently she sat up and poured herself a cup of weak, black tea, grimacing at the metallic flavour._Another side-effect of pregnancy,_ she thought sourly, _is that nothing seems to taste right._She began on the toast, spreading it thinly with honey and eating slowly to give her stomach time to adjust to holding its contents.She sifted through the owl post, putting aside the usual collection of scrolls from Chambers for her to work on at home.On hearing of her pregnancy, her employers had been so worried that she would give up work in favour of full-time motherhood that they were bending over backwards to be accommodating.Consequently, Hermione was privileged to work on a consultancy basis but with full salary, and this state of affairs would continue throughout her pregnancy, past the birth and into the first year – more or less for as long as she wanted._All of which could be pretty enjoyable if this sickness and fatigue would just pass away like it's supposed to …_Hermione gritted her teeth and swallowed hard, putting aside junk mail, bills, and a renewal of her subscription for "The Necromancer" periodical.Her busy hands froze on an unmarked scroll: a personal letter.Curious, she turned it around, looking for a return address: Los Angeles.She smiled with real pleasure: a letter from Neville was just what she needed to brighten her morning.She scanned it for news, absorbing the salient points just as she did with legal documents.

It seemed that Sabrina and Harvey had finally set a date for their wedding._More fool her_, thought Hermione, who would never have entertained the prospect of marrying a muggle no matter how charming.Neville was to be best man – _Gosh, do they really know what they're letting themselves in for?_ – and Valerie, the fourth housemate, was to be Maid of Honour._Hmm,_ Hermione raised a speculative eyebrow.Valerie seemed to be getting quite a lot of press in this letter, rather more than usual.Hermione placed a private bet with herself that the next communication they received from Neville would concern a rather more personal involvement with the subject of matrimony.

Hermione put the letter aside to read in more detail later.She took another bite of her toast and opened The Daily Prophet, intending to take an overview of what was happening in the wizarding world before starting work.She had reached page two when a small article tucked at the bottom of the page seemed to jump out at her:

WIZARDING AGENT FOUND DEAD 

Well-known agent in the musical world, Octavia Tenaxis, was yesterday found dead at her home.Neighbours became concerned when owl post remained uncollected and callers received no answer.Magical Forensics have been at work for most of the day and an auror spokesperson said that foul play has not been ruled out.

Hermione felt a strange prickling sensation down her spine.Octavia Tenaxis – she had been Ginny's agent, the one who might or might not have been involved with the scam Draco Malfoy tried to pull last summer.Hermione frowned: whether she really had been Draco's accomplice they would probably now never know, but her death under suspicious circumstances gave Hermione a peculiar feeling.She fumbled for her wand, intending to firetalk Ginny before she went to work, but paused before casting the spell.Was it a good idea to bring up such a painful subject for such flimsy reasons?Did Ginny really want to know that Octavia Tenaxis was dead, or would she be happier never hearing the name again?_You're just jumping to conclusions,_ Hermione told herself firmly._Even if her death is suspicious, even if it does concern the Dark Side, there's no reason to assume a connection with Ginny or Harry._She sighed and gave herself a stern lecture: _pregnancy's making you fanciful, woman: concentrate on fact and leave fiction to the novelists._

That afternoon a very different Hermione was to be found striding confidently into the main offices of the Ministry of Magic, power-dressed in a smart grey muggle suit carrying an expensive leather briefcase.The jacket of the suit wouldn't quite meet over the bulge but apart from that, she looked every inch the hotshot lawyer.Thirty minutes later, she was inwardly grinding her teeth in frustration.

The meeting had been called by Arthur Weasley in order for Hermione to present the results of the research she and Professor Ratcliffe had been conducting over recent weeks with a view to assisting with The Mind-Meld Problem, as it was rapidly becoming known.Harry and Ginny were both present, as was Arthur Weasley and, inevitably, the Head of Operations, Tantalus Brown.To their surprise, the Minister himself, Jeremy Wingford-Hill, had diffidently requested to sit in on the meeting, but so far he had done little other than observe.

"Is this really all you have, Dr. Granger?"Tantalus Brown was on top form this afternoon: striding about the room, thumbs hooked in his waistcoat, neck swelling like a turkeycock.Hermione had to admit that she was disappointed their research had yielded so little in terms of concrete evidence.Brown's thick lips curved in a patronising smile.

"Allow me to correct you, my dear." He said, bowing unctuously."In my opinion, this is all total nonsense, a complete fabrication and a waste of my valuable time."He paused to let the import of his words sink in.

"A small amount of spurious research based on documents which may or may not have any provenance and which are, in any case, of muggle origin; a doubtful piece of so-called clairvoyance from a lady who evidently has a future in forgery; and a few peripheral references which _might_ seem to back up this so-called prophecy from genuine wizarding archives … "

"The graphological analysis confirmed Albus Dumbledore's handwriting on ten out of ten counts," interjected Arthur smoothly."And a disclosure charm has narrowed down the age of the ink to a margin of three weeks.Whatever this message is, it can't be easily dismissed: Dumbledore died nearly six years ago."Tantalus Brown frowned in irritation at the interruption.

"Yes, yes," he replied impatiently."But does any of this really add up to anything solid, anything concrete?"He paused to bow again in Hermione's direction.

"My dear Dr. Granger, please forgive me but to a hard-bitten politician, all this sounds at best very thin indeed.I realise that we have to make allowances for your condition – I've heard pregnancy actually shrinks women's brains, you know."He winked at Arthur conspiratorily."But I can see nothing whatsoever in this afternoon's presentation to justify sending two people very much at risk from the Dark Side, at Ministry expense, to the other side of the world where contacts and backup are thin on the ground, to search for something that in all likelihood never existed."

Hermione couldn't remember when she had last been so insulted or so angry.Her research had been meticulous and well-conducted, and there were no other leads to be had, except from the Dark Side.What did Brown expect her to do – pay a visit to Lucius Malfoy?She opened her mouth in furious protest but bit back her words on feeling a light hand on her upper arm.She looked round to see Jeremy Wingford-Hill, the Minister for Magic, give her a quick warning glance.Rather surprised, she subsided and waited to see what he would do.

"Dr. Granger." He said, quietly."Please correct me if I am wrong, but your researches into ancient muggle archives from the island of Bali have uncovered a certain amount of evidence …"

"Largely circumstantial." Interrupted Brown haughtily.Wingford-Hill continued as if the Head of Operations had not spoken.

"Evidence which describes a sharing of consciousness between two people resembling that which Mr. Potter shares with Miss Weasley.Is that correct?"Hermione nodded.

"Also, Professor Ratcliffe has found a number of peripheral references in _bona fide_ wizarding archives, yes?"Again, Hermione nodded.

"I believe two of these references mention a musical instrument."

"That is correct, sir."Wingford-Hill steepled his fingers.

"That isn't really a great deal to go on." He admitted, eliciting a _"Psha!"_from Tantalus Brown.

"However," he continued doggedly."We have to consider carefullythe matter of Professor Trelawney's prophecy."Tantalus Brown exploded.

"I thought we'd pretty much eliminated that piece of nonsense!" he said, spreading his hands wide."Jeremy, you can't be serious!Trelawney's status is pretty much decided to every generation of Hogwarts pupils for the past twenty years.She's never had a valid prophecy yet!"Grinning hugely, he pointed to Harry.

"Ask Potter!" he declared expansively."Her multitude of predictions on his future have been well-documented, and every one of them turned out to be a mare's nest."

"That's not true!"Unexpectedly, Ginny found herself leaping to the defence of one of her least favourite Hogwarts professors."She predicted …" At that moment, Harry's foot pressed against hers urgently, and she remembered that Peter Pettigrew's appearance at Hogwarts in Harry's third year was still not generally known.

"… um … lots of things that have since some true." She finished lamely and looked at the floor.Wingford-Hill unexpectedly rallied to her support.

"I think you're being a little prejudiced there, Tantalus." He said."After all, Precognition is one of the more unreliable branches of magic."He ignored the snort of derision from his subordinate.

"It has to be said that the prophecy and Dr. Granger's research give us the only leads we have." He continued."It's not that we have a great deal to choose from.We may be grasping at straws, but ultimately straws are all we have."He sat back in his chair.

"I'm going to recommend that Harry and Ginny go on a liaison visit to our embassy in Singapore." He announced."They should be able to garner a little more information there.I'd be grateful if you would owl their research department with your findings, Dr. Granger."Hermione stared then nodded quickly

"If the Singapore Office can come up with any leads, then I suggest you go on to Bali from there." He told Harry."If not, then I guess it must be back to the drawing board."Ginny gaped.

"Singapore?" she exclaimed."Why on earth should be go there?"Harry put his hand on her arm.

"It's the nearest place to the Indonesian islands where we have any real backup." He explained."It's highly westernised there, very well-organised, and we have a proper wizard embassy."Ginny looked dubious, but Harry grinned broadly.

"And we can go watch The Swifts practising!" he told her."Oliver's on hiatus with them – remember?"

"But – but – " spluttered Brown, totally wrong-footed."This is utter nonsense!We can't justify the risk!Wizarding folk are very thin on the ground in Indonesia – as least, our sort are – the Dark Side will be tracking every move they make.They'd be sitting targets!"

"Tantalus has a point." The Minister broke in smoothly."Harry, you're going to need some backup.Any suggestions?"Harry, caught on the hop, said the first name that came into his head – which happened to be Fred.

"Out of the question!" Brown was adamant."Used to be good, I'll grant you, but he's unstable, unreliable.No offence meant, of course."Huffing slightly, Brown nodded apologetically in Arthur's direction.Arthur politely ignored him, but inside he was seething.Wingford-Hill was still looking questioningly at Harry.Harry stroked his lip with his index finger thoughtfully: George had no local knowledge and could be a liability when ignorant; Lee, although good in a pinch, had no field experience; and Harry was unwilling to drag Ron away from Hermione at this time, even if he was the ideal choice.

"There's a good man in C Division." Brown was beginning.Harry winced: no way was he going on a mission with one of Brown's cronies.

"If I might make a suggestion?"Wingford-Hill's light, diffident voice somehow cut through with ease. "I understand that our man in Merida, Sirius Black, has had some experience in Indonesia.Perhaps he would be willing to join you?"Harry grinned in relief.Next to Ron, Sirius was the one you wanted guarding your six when you went into the unknown!Tantalus Brown looked annoyed.

"Only one man as backup?Surely you're going to want more than that."Harry recognised the truth of that statement, but his mind had by now come up to speed.He smiled slowly.

"Oh, I think I know who I want as the fourth member of my team." He said quietly.

~oo0oo~

The cell was light and airy, small but fairly clean, and – best of all – empty.The single occupant was in solitary confinement.Not through undue violence or threatening behaviour, that was not her _modus operandi_.Her past cellmates had all, without exception, had to be transferred to St. Mungo's – no one knew why.The management had ceased to assign other inmates to share her cell after the fifth left Azkaban wrapped in a straightjacket, screaming like a banshee.

There were still two bunk beds in the room, two desks, two chairs and one washbasin firmly fixed to the wall.Suspended from a metal strut forming part of the upper bunk, a woman hung from one arm.Carefully and slowly, second by torturous second, the woman flexed and extended her arm, raising and lowering herself, never allowing her toes to touch the floor.Beads of sweat ran down her smooth olive-skinned face, soaking into her loose-fitting sleeveless vest.Damp patches began to form on the khaki cotton of her prison-issue fatigues, but she continued impassively to a count of fifty.Pausing to regain her breath, her feet still treading air, she transferred her weight to the other arm and began the exercise again.This movement turned her body one hundred and eighty degrees so that she now faced the door.

Voices sounded from the corridor.Swiftly moving footsteps grew nearer, along with snatches of conversation.The impassive face betrayed no knowledge of their presence.

" … check her out anyway.We just can't keep high-risk prisoners under these circumstances any more."

"That Ministry guy all but promised me there would be an enquiry after the last incident!"

"If just one of these babies was to escape …"

"Ah, don't even think about it – I don't want to know." 

The inspection grill rattled, a pair of eyes flashed into view.The woman hung, still suspended by her right arm, the only indication of effort being a slightly elevated rate of respiration.

"Miss Valentin." A slightly nervous, almost respectful voice came from outside the door.The woman ignored it.

"Miss Valentin," he persisted."You have been called for your monthly physical.The doctor is waiting for you.Come down from the bed now and step away from the door."

The woman levelled burning dark eyes at the inspection hatch, but gave no further indication that she had even heard the request.A patient sigh followed and a quiet aside:

"Frankly, I think this one's only here because St. Mungo's refused to have her.You really have to be persistent to get anything through, you know?"The women gave no outward sign of having understood any of this either, but a single muscle in her jaw twitched slightly.Flexing her right arm, she landed lightly on the floor of the cell, her rubber-soled shoes absorbing most of the shock.She waited passively while the door was unlocked and allowed herself to be led away down the corridor with a total lack of resistance.The two prison officers looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

"You'd think she was as mild as milk, wouldn't you?" commented one, speaking around the woman's shoulder.His colleague nodded, frowning.

"I must admit, I can't see anything as would worry me unduly," he replied."But these Dark ones are unpredictable.Some of the ones in my usual wing would use the Unforgiveables on me as soon as blink, if they could get hold of a wand to do it.It's just as well we don't carry the things – they'd be more of a curse than a blessing."

"Too right!" the other gave a short bark of laughter. "They don't even know what this one can do.She didn't have regular training, you know.Grew up in Mexico and learned Dark Magic from childhood.Good thing there aren't many like her around!"Making noises of agreement, the two officers continued to shepherd the woman towards the Infirmary.

As she took slow, measured strides along the bare stone floor, the woman pushed her dark, sweat-soaked hair out of her eyes and allowed a small, ironic smile to touch her mouth fleetingly.These two buffoons thought they knew everything about her – how ridiculous when their much-vaunted masters had not even the smallest inkling of her abilities.True – having her wand confiscated had severely limited what she could achieve within these walls, but she was certainly not helpless, nor had the months of mindless tedium weakened her resolve.She knew who was responsible for her incarceration, and she had every intention of making him pay – with his life.He had betrayed her, and at the end he had reviled and humiliated her.She would tolerate his existence no further.This physical exam had fallen at exactly the right time for her purposes.For Katia Valentin, the weeks of endurance and patience were about to pay off.Now she had a chance of revenge.

~oo0oo~


	6. Unfolding

Sorcerors' Endgame

Disclaimer:_This story is written for the purposes of my own amusement and, hopefully, that of my readers, and no profit of any kind is being generated by it or by either of its prequels.All characters and history belong to J.K. Rowling and to whosoever she has licensed her creations at the present time.I own the plot and the odd original character, nothing else._

**Thanks for all the reviews folks – keep 'em coming and I'll keep writing.**

**_Sorcerors' Endgame_** A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Penpusher Sequel to "By the Pricking of My Thumbs" 

**Chapter Five: Unfolding******

Another house, another area of London.This establishment was in Belgravia, probably one of the most expensive residential areas in the world.The house was smart, well-kept, large and with a garden almost extensive enough to be called "grounds".It was exquisitely decorated with the type of antique furniture and paintings that made Octavia Tenaxis' apartment look like a council flat in Brixton.And its owner was a good deal more unprincipled than she was.In fact, the Borgias could have learned a thing or two from this sweetheart.

In the entrance hall, a beautiful, curvaceous blonde leaned decoratively against an oak panelled door.

"Darling, I'm leaving now." She cooed against the smooth, polished wood, mindful of her likely replacement if she were to put a toe out of line.

"Come!" snapped a voice from inside the room.Carefully, she opened the door a crack and slipped through.

The room she entered was not large, at least not in comparison with the average church.It was probably a study, although the plethora of expensively framed oil paintings on the walls made it touch and go as to whether it was being used temporarily to house the overspill from the Tate.The blonde took the short hike between the door and the enormous Louis XIV desk at a leisurely pace.Anything faster would have spoiled her entrance, and besides, it takes a great deal of effort to wade through a carpet pile six inches deep wearing three-inch stilettos.The carpet – ah, now there was something to feast the eyes upon!Pure silk in a rich gold, resembling nothing so much as a rippling field of ripe corn, so flawless as to make a vacuum-cleaner salesman weep.The blonde had by this time reached the far end of the room and gingerly approached the magnificent desk.Deep mahogany, gleaming like burnished copper in the light of the log fire, the beautiful piece of furniture would have outshone the carpet if it hadn't been for the curtains.The curtains made the carpet look shabby.Gleaming Persian silk damask with a rich brocade trimming, they covered the entirety of a wall and fell from ceiling to floor in one perfect golden swathe.

But the blonde's attention was directed towards none of these wonders.Her concern was with the owner of them, the necessary evil that came with a marriage agreed to out of a purely disinterested desire for money and status.A puff of cigarette smoke wafted in her direction and she made strenuous efforts to suppress an involuntary cough.The smoker turned to face her from behind his overlarge desk.

"Ah, there you are, my dear."The light of the standard lamp fell full on his face, revealing him to be in late middle-age, slightly overweight and no oil painting.However, his stance and posture denoted great self-satisfaction, arrogance, and a habit of thinking too well of himself, due mainly to his obvious wealth. The blonde fidgeted awkwardly under his scrutiny, but maintained her false, beaming smile.Examining her outfit, the man frowned slightly and rested his smouldering cigarette in the ashtray.Unhurriedly, he skirted the desk and walked around her, scrutinizing every inch of her body.Patiently, she waited.

"Don't you think that colour is a little – dressy for an evening with your sister, my dear?"He began, his smile taking on a reptilian quality.The blonde swallowed, then recovered her composure with difficulty.

"But it's such a lovely dress, darling." She wheedled."I remember the day you bought it for me.In Paris, on our honeymoon."

"Indeed." He inclined his head."But I also remember I intended you to wear it for _me_, not to waste it on your sister.If that is really who you are meeting tonight."The blonde's eyes widened, a flicker of fear in their depths.

"Of course I'm meeting Fiona!" she exclaimed, her voice pitched uncomfortably high."Darling, where else would I go without you?"He gripped her chin uncomfortably in the fingers of one hand, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

"Where indeed?" he murmured, breathing tobacco fumes in her face. "Where indeed do you go, my dear, when you are out of my sight?Particularly when you are dressed so beautifully."His fingers tightened, a small sound of pain escaped her.

"Don't forget," he continued, still in the same quiet tones."You belong to me.Play the game and maybe you'll last a little longer than your predecessors.I bought you for my own amusement, no one else's."She let out a shaking breath as he released her and went back behind the desk.Drawing on his neglected cigarette, he turned back to his wife.

"Henry will take you, as usual." He said, "But I have asked him to act as your escort.He will be at your side all evening and will bring you home well before the witching hour."The man smiled.

"Have a good evening, my dear."The young blonde stumbled out of the study as quickly as possible before the tears could spill over and ruin her makeup.

Her husband sat back down at his desk and began to write, carefully and methodically, smiling slightly at the sound of his wife's BMW on the gravel driveway a few minutes later.After that, there was silence broken only by the tick of the clock and the occasional shifting of a log in the fire.Presently, a respectful knock on the study door heralded a dowdy, middle-aged woman who slipped into the room, standing as near to the door as she could contrive.

"Begging your pardon, sir, but I've left your supper in the dining room as usual.You said it was just you tonight, sir, as the mistress is out."

"That's right, Mrs. Collins." The man didn't bother to look up.The housekeeper fidgeted with her apron.

"Well if that's all, sir, I'll be making my way home."He waved an irritable hand in her direction.

"Yes, yes, Mrs. Collins.Now just _go!_"The woman bobbed a small curtsey and left the room, closing the door quietly.Presently, the man heard footsteps in the hall and the click of the front door latch.He was alone.

Time moved its slow, relentless pace.Eventually the man paused in his writing, wriggled his weary fingers and leaned back in his chair.He glanced at the clock: nine-fifteen.Perhaps it was time for a break, some supper.He rose from his chair, stretching his aching shoulders, then paused as a cold draught hit the back of his neck.Puzzled, he looked towards the curtains, wondering if a window had been left open.He moved towards them, and abruptly the standard lamp, the only source of light in the room, was extinguished.The man swore, lunging across the desk towards the defective light, freezing instantly as an arm wrapped itself under his chin and something cold and rather sharp jabbed at his neck.

"Stay still." A cool voice whispered in his ear."Stay very still indeed, _Mr. Cavendish_, if you value the state of your health."Cavendish made himself as still as possible.

"That's better." The whispering continued."Now, very slowly indeed, back up towards your chair.That's right, slowly and steadily.I don't suppose I need to tell you what will happen to you if you try anything stupid, now do I?No, I didn't think so."Cavendish sank very gradually into his chair.He wanted to tell the Voice that of course he wouldn't do anything stupid, that he'd had training from experts as to what to do in a hostage situation, that he was sure they could come to an adequate financial arrangement, but when he opened his mouth, all that emerged was a strangled croak.

"Shhh!" whispered the voice chidingly."Don't try to speak.Fear not – you'll be doing plenty of that later.Just sit in the chair quietly like a good boy while I take some measures to make sure you stay there."There was a quiet swishing of cloth, then the whispered command: "_Vinculorum!_"Something cold settled on his arms and legs.Cavendish tried to move and found that he had been bound securely to his chair.He struggled briefly then gave it up as a lost cause.

"Well now!" his captor stood behind him. "That's much better.I admit, I feel rather happier now I know you'll stay put."Cavendish strained his eyes but could make out nothing more than a shadow.

"If it's money you want, there's very little on the premises." He said.The other man laughed.

"My dear Cavendish, if that's your real name at all – which I doubt." He laughed grimly."If all I wanted was your money, I would have killed you and taken it from the safe concealed behind the small but exquisite Turner watercolour.Muggle security is effective against muggles, but as we both know, there are more things in heaven and earth than muggles."Cavendish's eyes almost popped out of his head.

"Muggles?" he muttered."You – you're a wizard?"

"Give that man a prize!"The voice sighed in exaggerated patience."How do you think I immobilised you?I was never a boy scout, so my prowess with knots isn't exactly anything to write home about."Cavendish fell silent.Here was a totally new ball game.His experience with wizards was long-standing, but he had only ever met two examples of the breed.And he knew nothing of resisting magic, he didn't even know if it was possible for muggles to be proof against such power.

"Who are you?"A harsh laugh.

"You expect something for nothing?I came here to get information, not to give it.In fact, _Mr. Cavendish_, I came here for a good deal of information, and I fully intend to depart with all of it."Cavendish struggled uselessly against his bonds.

"You'll get nothing out of me!" he snarled, with a conviction he did not feel.

"I think you would be well advised to reconsider that position." replied the Voice in measured tones."Hmm.Perhaps a little pertinent information would help.We have, in fact, never met, but I recognise your type very well indeed.I am highly trained, you know, in many skills you would probably rather not be acquainted with: Brainwashing by several different means; Torture by the Elements – Fire, Water, Earth and Air; the Induction of Madness by both Surgical and Psychological Methods; the Many uses of Sharp Instruments; the Management of Pain – oh, I could go on and on."Cavendish felt sweat break out on his forehead.The Voice paused, weighing his words carefully.

"You work for Lucius Malfoy." He began quietly."You are his solicitor.You are a muggle and muggle trained, but over the years you have carried out extensive research into wizarding law.Lucius Malfoy was quick to see that this made you the ideal advisor for his criminal activities.You have acted for him for most of your professional life, and you have been closely involved with his business and personal matters over recent years.If I were to tell you that I am from the same camp, but a maverick, how much less confident in your prospects of remaining silent would you suddenly be?"

The answer to that last question was "considerably".Cavendish felt the blood drain from his face.Lucius Malfoy was a very good client, and Cavendish didn't dare consider the financial consequences of losing him.It was his patronage that brought the luxurious house, the incredible art works, the succession of young and beautiful wives.But Lucius was one scary being.Cavendish rated himself as being pretty hardened to the nastier side of life, but with Lucius he had seen things that had turned even his strong stomach.And this guy was trained in the same things as Lucius, but a loose cannon?Suddenly getting out of this situation alive seemed a good deal less probable than it had five minutes ago.He took a deep breath.

"What do you want to know?"

"There!I knew you'd see reason eventually."The Voice oozed satisfaction then became brisk and businesslike."How long have you worked for the Malfoy Empire?"A shrug.

"Thirty – possibly thirty-five years."

"How much do you know about your client?"

"I know he's a wizard."

"Three cheers – don't make me impatient.Or I might be tempted to drag it out of you – just to keep my hand in, you understand."

Hurriedly."I know he's descended from a very old, pure-blood family – one of the aristocrats of the wizarding world.He married a Swartzkraft – united two very powerful families by doing so, apparently.Wife died several years ago – he's never married again …"A low hiss from his captor stopped Cavendish in mid-flow.

"I could read all this in 'Wizarding Who's Who'!" snarled the Voice.Cavendish trembled.There was a small silence.

"Why did Narcissa Swartzkraft marry Lucius Malfoy?"Cavendish was puzzled.

"I really have no idea – I was not acquainted with Mr. Malfoy at that time."

"Come on, you can do better than that, Cavendish.You made the marriage settlement, for Merlin's sake!"

Stiffly."It was a mutually agreed match between the families."

"So she was under pressure.How on earth did you make her go through with it?"

"That, fortunately, was none of my concern."

"What about the children?"

"Children?There is only one – a boy, Draco.Unfortunately, he has turned out to be – unstable.Such a tragedy for this to happen to the only son and heir."

"I was under the impression that there was a younger sibling, a girl."Cavendish froze.Very few people either knew or remembered the second Malfoy birth.A grim smile formed on his face.

"I believe I know who I am talking to now." He replied, a little more confidently."You're the traitor, Draco Malfoy.The turncoat."There was a sudden sharp prick at his throat.The voice paused then began again a little quicker, a little more breathlessly.

"That's as may be, but you _will_ tell me all you know about Aurora Malfoy unless you wish to feel cold steel pierce your windpipe.My patience is not infinite and this blade is very small and sharp.One muscle tremor and your life could be spilling copiously over your fine custom-made Chinese carpet.It seems a shame to desecrate such a beautiful possession, but sadly Muggles have yet to discover how to remove blood from silk, particularly in such quantities.Now, _tell me!_"To emphasise his order, he leaned a little on the knife, puncturing the skin of his captive's throat.Feeling blood trickle down his chest, Cavendish lost all his new-found self-assurance.

"Look," he began pleadingly."I don't know much, and what I do know is down to supposition, piecing things together – you know the sort of thing."He swallowed.

"The girl died in infancy." He said.

"How?"Cavendish shook his head impatiently.

"I've no idea – some childhood disease, accident, who knows?There was never any question about it, but it was all kept very quiet indeed because Narcissa went absolutely made with grief."He paused and the knife jerked slightly.

"I had to draw up a Power of Attorney." He said hurriedly, his voice rising in pitch with panic."Narcissa was beyond help, beyond anything.Lucius had her committed to St. Mungo's, but she died very shortly thereafter."

"How did she die?"

"She …" But at that moment, both heads turned as a key scraped in the front door.

"Mr. Cavendish has not yet retired." A feminine voice spoke in the hallway. "The dining room lights are still blazing."The hand holding the knife seemed to hesitate, then withdrew.Cavendish had never been so glad of his wife's presence.

"It's alright, madam." A male voice replied."He asked me to look in on him when we returned this evening.If you have everything you need, I will do that now."

"Very well, Henry." The woman replied wearily."I'll make my way to bed then.Be sure to tell Mr. Cavendish that I wanted to see him, won't you?"

"I will Madam."

"Caught!" said Cavendish to his captor in triumph."You always were a disappointment to your father.I'll enjoy handing you over to him.Draco Malfoy, caught by a muggle!That'll be a poke in the eye for Pettigrew, eh Malfoy?Malfoy?"

But by the time Henry had opened the door, turned on the main light and seen his master's predicament, Draco was long gone.The French doors behind the desk were wide open, the sumptuous curtains flapping in the breeze, but Cavendish was certain even Draco Malfoy would never have left so obvious a clue.He struggled against his bonds then shook his head as his servant tried to release him.

"Henry," he said impatiently."Leave those things alone!Go now and telephone Lucius Malfoy.Tell him I need to see him urgently."The chauffeur stared at his employer in amazement.

"But sir," he protested. "It's nearly midnight!"

"Just do as I say and keep your opinions to yourself!" Cavendish shouted, almost beside himself."Get me Lucius Malfoy – and keep quiet about this, if you value your job!"Henry gave a quick salute before taking off at the double.

"Yes sir!"

Cavendish struggled once more to free himself, failing miserably.His vulnerability was making him restless.Draco Malfoy would scarcely be satisfied with the little information he had already extracted, so the chances were high that he would return.Now that Cavendish knew his enemy – a renegade with Dark Arts training and a Malfoy temperament – he was more afraid for his life than he had ever been.And rightly so, as it turned out.

~oo0oo~

Ginny sighed gently as she hung up the last of her garments in the spacious wardrobe.

"Most of the stuff I brought is far too warm." She complained."You forget how it feels to be warm in the middle of an English spring!"Harry smiled and put his arms round her in an impulsive hug.

"Then go on a vast shopping spree!" he told her."That's what most people come to Singapore for.There's mall upon mall of shops and cafes, restaurants and foodhalls.If you can't buy what you want in Singapore, then you can't get it anywhere!"Ginny creased her forehead in puzzlement.

"Is there nothing else to do here but shop?" she asked in a small voice.Harry took pity on her.

"Of course there is!" He replied."There's lots to see and to visit – you wait until we meet Oliver this evening.He'll tell us exactly who to talk to, where to go and how to make the most of the short time we have here."There was a small pause then Harry continued, sounding rather less sure of himself.

"I've always wanted to visit the Far East." He said."I'd planned to bring you here for a holiday, you know.A bit of R&R after our hectic time over the past year."Ginny smiled and caressed his face with one hand.

"What a lovely thought." She replied."Perhaps we can come back some day."He nodded.

"Perhaps." He agreed.He released her and made as if to turn away, then changed his mind and turned back, his hands going to her shoulders.

"I wanted to give you a really special holiday."He said earnestly."I thought we could come here for our – for our honeymoon."He waited, holding his breath.Ginny's face was in shadow.

"Harry," she began uncertainly."I … "Quickly, Harry tilted her chin, raising her head until their eyes met.

"Shhh, it's okay." He told her, putting a finger against her lips."I shouldn't have said anything."But inside he felt cold as stone.Ginny pushed his hand away.

"No, Harry, I didn't mean … oh, this is so difficult!"She turned away and covered her mouth with her hands for a moment.Resolutely, she turned back and levelled her bright brown eyes to his green ones.

"I know what you're trying to do." She began in a low voice."This is about the conversation we had a couple of weeks ago, isn't it?"Harry was surprised.

"What?" he queried.She skimmed gentle fingers over his arm.

"When I told you how bad I felt about the mind-bond thing?" she prompted."How it was all my fault it wouldn't work?How I made you vulnerable, but couldn't provide you with any extra strength?"He was nodding now.

"Among other ridiculous ideas." He added with a smile.She continued.

"You're trying to prove something." She told him."This is about making a total commitment, showing me once and for all that you love me and you want to be with me, whatever happens."

"Well, yes." he agreed, looking slightly confused."Is that a problem?"She shook her head.

"Goodness no!" she told him."Perhaps I'm rather old-fashioned, but I've always felt that marriage is for life, no going back, no copping out half way through.When I take you for better or for worse, Harry, it will be for the duration.Only death will separate us, and even then I have hopes that we'll meet again in whatever sort of afterlife there turns out to be."She pursed her lips thoughtfully.

"Trouble is," she continued."I really believe that I can only make a full commitment when and if I can be confident I'm not going to put you at risk."

"Huh?"Harry reckoned he must be very slow, but he didn't exactly follow that.She paced the room a little.

"If I marry you now," she continued."All the problems, all the worries I have about being the weak link, the millstone, the liability will still be there.A piece of paper, even though it's a legal contract, isn't going to solve that overnight."She turned to him again.

"The only thing that will convince me that I'm worthy of your love is for us to learn to work the mind-bond."A variety of different emotions chased each other across Harry's face.Blank astonishment was quickly replaced by something close to anger, which in turn melted away into a mixture of disbelief and chagrin.At the heart of his reaction was something very like despair.

"And if we never manage to work it?"Ginny lowered her eyes.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." She whispered, and with that Harry had to be content.

One hour later found them showered, dressed in evening clothes and toying with cocktails in the Foyer Bar.Harry was still wrestling with the knotty problem of creating a temperature control charm to make the heat and 90% humidity bearable, yet be sensitive enough to deactivate once it detected the arctic air-conditioning in every public building.Ginny sat gazing up at the glass ceiling so very far away from them.A frown settled between her eyebrows: something was not quite right about the architecture.

"Quite stunning, isn't it?If you've never seen an Atrium Hotel before, this is a really good example."Ginny snapped her head round and found herself staring into warm, brown eyes in a tanned, smiling face.

"Oliver!" she exclaimed."How lovely to see you!"She put her arms round his neck and hugged him.Harry stood up, holding his hand out in welcome.The former fellow Quidditch team members shook hands heartily.

"Let me get you a drink."Harry made off quickly in the direction of the bar.Oliver sat down at the table.

"When did you get here?" He asked.

"Mid-morning.Ported directly into Changi Airport." She responded, then made a face which had nothing to do with the taste of her drink."Really, whoever is in charge of that exchange ought to do something about the facilities."

"Oh?" Oliver raised his eyebrows.Ginny looked at him.

"You've never used that one?"He shook his head.

"I always use the Embassy exchange."Ginny sniffed.

"You're probably wise.It's a broom cupboard – a very dirty broom cupboard – located in the bowels of the basement.Goodness knows what the muggles use it for!"Oliver laughed, then followed Ginny's eyes as she took yet another unconscious glance up at the ceiling.She shook her head.

"Oliver, there's something wrong with this place." She told him."Every time I look up, I think I'm going to fall over!"

"That's because the walls aren't perpendicular."She looked at him, puzzled.He smiled.

"Look," he began."As I told you, this is an Atrium hotel building, it's specially designed for hot climates.Heat rises, yes?So the place most heat is lost is through the roof.If you make a big open space for the Foyer rising the entire height of the hotel – in this case, a clear eighteen stories – and have the bedrooms circling it on mezzanines which overlap each other by a few feet as they ascend, you've got a natural cooling tower!"Ginny frowned.

"So that's why I get the feeling that the walls are falling in on me every time I look up?"Oliver nodded.

"And all the heat produced in this building funnels up the Foyer and goes out through the roof?"

"Well, almost."Oliver grinned."They're a bit short of living area here on Singapore – I'll explain about that later, if you want – so to make up for the apparent waste of space, the rising heat is used to provide hot water for the guests."Ginny stared.Oliver nodded, grinning.

"And when the water is at boiling point and they _still_ have heat to spare, they channel it into the swimming pool.That's why it's on the roof – the perfect heat sink!"Ginny was still frowning.

"I'm sure it's very clever," she told him."But surely a simple _Frigidus_ charm would do the trick."Oliver rolled his eyes, but fortunately at that moment Harry returned with fresh drinks for all of them.Once he had been served, Oliver raised his glass and smiled over the rim.

"It's good to see familiar faces again." He told her with a grin."I miss Harry's House and having you all around me.Here's to a successful visit – whatever it is you're here for!"Ginny raised her eyebrows.

"You really miss England that much?Don't you like living in Singapore?"Oliver considered.

"Well," he began."Some of it's disturbingly English, like the Raffles Hotel.Some of it's totally and utterly foreign, like some of the old streets and buildings where the air-conditioning consists of opening a window.And some of it embodies both the best and the worst of capitalism – as you'll pretty soon find out if you get the chance to compare the luxury of the shopping malls with the bleakness of some of the suburbs.It can get pretty functional, you know, once you get beyond the tourist areas."

"But do you _like_ it here?" Ginny persisted, determined to get an answer for reasons she did not fully understand.Oliver paused again, then nodded.

"Yes." He told her."Yes, actually I do like it here.I enjoy the buzz and the life of the place.And you realise, don't you, that magic is much better tolerated here than in most parts of the world, including England?"Harry cleared his throat.

"We had lunch today with a representative from the Embassy." He said."I don't think we learned much, but it was quite pleasant.He indicated that wizards occupy the same embassy building as muggles, but they don't seem to come into any conflict."Oliver was nodding.

"Yes, that's right."He glanced at his watch."Look, why don't we go into dinner now?There's a great deal I can tell you, but it might take a little time."

Over a surprisingly international menu, Oliver continued.He told them of the extremely strict muggle codes of conduct, the laws governing the disposal of refuse, the resulting lack of insect-borne diseases such as malaria, the use of corporal punishment.Ginny was shocked.

"It's like living in a police state!" She exclaimed.

"But it keeps the place from sliding into anarchy!" insisted Oliver."Look, Ginny.With over four million people living in this small area, plus the tourists, laws have to be stringent to make things bearable.Take the water situation."Oliver was beginning to warm to his subject.

"Much of Singapore is mountainous, and practically all of the rest has been developed in some form or other.There's no space for them to build reservoirs.If Singapore were to rely on its own water supplies, they'd be dry within a day!"

"So how do they cope?"This was Harry speaking.Oliver shrugged.

"They have an agreement with Malaysia.The Malays provide the water, Singapore purifies it, takes what it needs, then sends the rest back."

"A mutually beneficial situation."Oliver made a face.

"Isn't it just? – until the Malaysian government uses our dependence on their water to inflict unfair political pressure."Ginny took note that Oliver had started to use personal pronouns.

"We have an incredible shortage of space." He continued."There's even a plan afoot now to artificially extend the resort island, Sentosa.How they'll do it is totally beyond me."

"Perhaps they'll bring in wizards to help." Ginny suggested idly.Oliver fixed her with an intense look.

"That's not as daft an idea as you seem to think." He told her then scratched his head, wondering where to begin.

"It's a strange situation." He said eventually."Wizards aren't hated or feared here, we're rather treated as experts in our field, just like Chinese traditional doctors, faith healers and astrologers.The Oriental peoples have greater contact with the spiritual world and are generally less suspicious.They also don't need every 'i' dotted and every 't' crossed, like muggles in England do."He looked at his two friends.

"I, however, do." He said firmly."Now, I have a very vague idea why you're here in Singapore, but no details.If it's terribly hush-hush, I suppose I'll just have to grit my teeth and suffer, but if it's all the same to you, I'm terribly curious as to why I have the pleasure of your company so suddenly."Harry gave a small chuckle and scanned the table: they had all finished.

"Shall we take our coffee in the Foyer?" he suggested."And perhaps there, Oliver, we can give you a little more idea as to what Singapore might have to offer us."

Night was beginning to fall outside, and the lights in the Foyer were gradually brightening.Ginny noticed how the huge space above seemed both to absorb and to clarify any sound in the building.Tuning out the boys' soft conversation, she looked up once more at the disturbing walls – Oliver's explanation of their construction had not served to make her easy with the sensation.Abruptly her attention snapped back into focus at an outraged yell of pain.She looked round to see Oliver on his feet, his trousers dripping with hot coffee, facing a smartly-dressed Eurasian girl who was apologising profusely in heavily accented English.

"I so sorry!" she exclaimed, looking as though she was about to cry."Are you hurt?Oh, I so clumsy!Please let me help."She fumbled in her handbag for a handkerchief.Huge eyes so dark as to be almost black gazed limpidly upwards through smoky black lashes.Oliver's jaw dropped.

The girl seemed to be in her early to mid-twenties with shining ebony hair falling almost to her waist, a pale-skinned oval face, and a slender, lithe body encased in a deep red dress which clung to her curves and emphasised the endless length of her legs.Oblivious to the hot coffee, Oliver drew a clean white handkerchief from his breast pocket and offered it to the girl.She took it with a shy smile of thanks and carefully mopped a few stray spots of coffee from her Italian leather shoes before handing it back.

"But what about …?"she gestured to his ruined trousers.Oliver shrugged.

"It doesn't matter." He responded."Look, let me buy you a drink – to show no hard feelings, eh?The name's Oliver Wood."Her face broke into a brilliant smile, revealing perfect white teeth.

"I am Wu Jiang-Li."She responded."Thank you so much."Taking her by the elbow, Oliver steered her gently towards the bar.Harry watched them go with a small frown on his face.He heard a soft chuckle from Ginny.

"Oliver's determined not to let this one get away." She commented easily.Harry gave her a very old-fashioned look.

"Ginny, my darling," he began gently."That was as professional a piece of work as I have ever seen in my life!"

"Huh?"Ginny was puzzled.Harry smiled indulgently.

"The spilled drink is an old one," he continued."Although I am surprised that she chose to drench him quite so thoroughly – and with extremely hot liquid too."Ginny's quizzical frown did not abate.Harry sighed.

"That one's a professional – I'd put money on it!"She looked at him blankly.Exasperated at her incomprehension, he lowered his voice.

"A call-girl, a hooker!"

"Oh, surely not!"Ginny was shocked.Harry shrugged, unable to resist a superior smile at her discomfiture.He sneaked a quick look at the dark-haired girl standing with his friend at the bar, laughing attractively and gesturing gracefully with her hands.His frown deepened.

"Well, she's not here for the benefit of Oliver's baby-blue eyes, that's for sure!"

"His eyes are brown."

"You know what I mean."Ginny sighed.

"I suppose I do.Oh, Harry!" she pouted prettily."Just when I really thought Oliver was going to get a life, you have to put the dampers on it!"

"Hey!" he protested, holding up both his hands defensively."Don't shoot the messenger!You know how hopelessly naïve he is with girls.I was only giving you the benefit of my greater experience."Ginny had just opened her mouth to let him have it – greater experience indeed! – when Oliver and his beautiful companion returned from the bar with their drinks.Gallantly, Harry collected another chair for the girl and positioned it next to his friend, directly opposite his own.Immediately, Oliver began the introductions.The girl nodded politely, only reacting when Harry mentioned that they were English.

"You are from England?" she exclaimed, a delighted smile illuminating her flawless face."I have relatives in England.Let me see now …"She broke off to consider.

"The Chans!" she announced triumphantly."They live in London.Eleanor and Michael, and their children, Richard, Jenny and Alistair.You know them, no?"Harry was puzzled.Perhaps she was nothing more sinister than a harmless nutter. Oliver coughed gently.

"London is a very big place," he told the girl."And it's impossible to know everyone who lives there."She seemed to accept that, then her face lit up once again.

"Ah, but I do have someone that I am sure you will know!He is a friend, not a relative.His name is Fred Weasley."A sudden silence fell.Oliver's eyes widened.Ginny's startled exclamation was stifled by Harry's hand slamming swiftly down on her lower arm, preventing her from drawing her wand.Slowly he shook his head: if there were going to be fireworks, _he_ would be the one to deliver them.Lifting his chin slightly in challenge, Harry warily regarded the lovely young woman opposite.She was still sitting in the deceptively relaxed posture she had adopted when she had joined them.Her expressionless face clearly told him that the ball was in his court.

"My wand is pointing straight at your heart." He said calmly, in low tones, "If you move, I will hex you.Since you claim to be well acquainted with Fred Weasley, I'm assuming that you know exactly what I mean."

Her response was equally quiet, equally composed, and in perfect idiomatic North-American English.

"My Wall of Force may only be two inches thick, but it's wrapped around me exactly like a scuba suit.Anything you choose to throw at me will get bounced right back at you.Rain check?"They stared at each other for a timeless moment then Harry resheathed his wand and brought both his hands into view, placing them flat on the edge of the table.

"You have the advantage of me, Miss Jiang-Li," He said with a wry smile. "In more ways than one.Wizarding Intelligence?"She nodded, her rigid expression relaxing into a half-grin.

"Attached to the Embassy," She confirmed."Loosely."Ginny stared.

"So you're our contact?"Wu Jiang-li pursed her lips.

"In a manner of speaking." She replied.Harry let out a breath.

"So I assume you know exactly who I am and why I am in Singapore?"She nodded.

"I was well briefed." She assured him."I could have picked you out of a crowd – and Miss Weasley here, of course, but that wouldn't exactly be difficult."She smiled across at Ginny's rigid, unresponsive expression.

"Your pictures don't do you justice." She told her."You gained quite a following here when 'Hold That Thought' was current.A pity it had to disband, but under the circumstances I suppose it was unavoidable."Ginny gave her a hard, suspicious stare, then allowed a suspicion of a smile to crack her face.

"I confess," she replied. "I had no idea 'Hold That Thought' had been marketed anywhere other than Britain and The States.Did we really attract that much attention?"The other girl nodded with enthusiasm.

"Oh yes." she replied."My colleagues were humming those tunes for months."Ginny looked pleased.Harry was still thoughtful.

"Why did you consider it necessary to use such an – unorthodox method of approach?"He asked.The girl toyed with her glass, her smile fading.

"Various reasons," She began."Concerning news of several people who are seeking to stop you from completing your quest."Her eyes locked with Harry's.

"Go on." He told her.

"Lucius Malfoy." She began, without preamble."He has business connections here in Singapore.There are ripples, undercurrents."She shook her head.

"It's difficult to evaluate the intelligence when most of it is so nebulous, but the drift of it is, shall we say, extremely unhealthy for you – on a personal level."Harry nodded without smiling.

"I can believe it, Miss Jiang-Li."He leaned towards her over the table."So you came to my hotel dressed like a call-girl and poured coffee over my friend here simply in order to meet us independently of your Department?You'll have to do better than that."

She gave him an arch look and was silent for a moment.

"I do indeed know Fred Weasley on both professional and personal levels." She began."He and I have the same – how shall I call it? – instinct.A nose, a feeling for intrigue, if you like.We both have very sensitive antennae – for magic and for the inherent rightness in a situation."Her mouth firmed in a straight line.

"And this situation stinks.It's rotten to the core, and the smell is so strong that I prefer to go it alone than risk being compromised."

"You think Lucius's organisation has infiltrated your department?"She nodded firmly.

"I'm damn sure of it.I can't prove anything, of course: he's far too clever not to cover his ass several times over, but I have a fair idea who I'm dealing with."Harry nodded slowly.

"And if we hadn't been who we pretended to be?" he asked, his eyes hard."If this had been a set-up designed to entrap you, what then?"She held his gaze steadily.

"Then I would have been forced to take, ah, sterner measures."They stared each other out for a brief moment then Harry nodded again silently.The girl smiled, reaching into her purse.

"Just in case you need final proof of my _bona fides_, I think this should do nicely."She slid a folded piece of parchment across the table.Gingerly, Harry picked it up and unwrapped it, frowning in surprise.

"What is it?"Ginny leaned over.Wordlessly, he passed the parchment to her, unsurprised at her gasp of astonishment.She looked up.

"The prophecy!" she exclaimed."I believe this is the original!"Wu Jiang-Li nodded.

"You're right.I'm returning it to you on behalf of the Singapore Ministry of Magic."

Harry paused to take a good look at her.She accepted his scrutiny with the passive acceptance of one who has become accustomed to attention: men would always look at Wu Jiang-Li.He held out his hand to her.

"Harry Potter." He said formally."I am entirely satisfied that you are who you say you are, Miss Jiang-Li."A sudden smile lightened her face as she returned the handshake.

"Julie Wu, if you please." she told him."I spent a few years in Canada – did some advanced training at the Portastrium School in Vancouver.My fellow students coined the name, and I've gone by it ever since."

"Is that the only place you've trained?"Ginny asked.Julie shook her head.

"Heavens no!" she replied."I've studied all over the world – Java, India, Thailand, Russia.I've even been to Germany.I studied for a year or two at Durmstrang."

"Durmstrang?" The alarm was evident in Ginny's voice.Julie maintained her smile, nodding firmly.

"So are the rumours true?" Harry asked casually."Do they indeed teach the Dark Arts there?"The lightness of his tone belied a certain tension.She shook her head.

"I am bound by the rules not to reveal the curriculum."She told him."Suffice it to say that I only lasted one term."A delicate shudder told Harry all he wanted to know.

"Look, if nobody minds, I think I'll just retire for a moment or two to do a quick repair job on my trousers."Oliver spoke for the first time since Julie's revelations.

"Seeing as we're all wizards together here, I fail to see any good reason for staying uncomfortable any longer," he continued."But as we're in a muggle hotel, I suppose I'd better get out of sight first."He turned to the raven-haired beauty.

"You'll stay with us a little longer, won't you?" he asked."You won't disappear as soon as I'm gone?"Julie looked thoughtfully into his eyes then delivered a smile that settled on him like a ten-ton truck.

"No, Oliver," she replied gently."I'll still be here."Harry watched Oliver scuttle towards the Cloakrooms then turned back to Julie.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked quietly.

"That it would be dangerous for us to meet again, and risky for me to leave messages here at the hotel?Yes, that had occurred to me too."She glanced over her shoulder towards Oliver's disappearing figure.

"Perhaps a go-between would solve the problem?"Harry suggested mildly.Julie pretended to consider.

"What does he do here in Singapore?"

"He manages the Singapore Swifts."Ginny interjected quickly."He used to be keeper, but he says he's got beyond the Manager/Player thing.He's here for a few more weeks at least – they've been breaking in a new player and it's not been easy."Julie blinked in surprise.

"A Quidditch player?" she said, obviously impressed."That could work.That could work very well."Ginny looked round to see Harry nodding in satisfied agreement and allowed herself an inner sigh: Oliver's luck with women was obviously running true to form.

Now back at their table with freshly pressed trousers, Oliver was devastated to find Julie in deep conversation with Harry.A very swift exchange of information was taking place, and Julie was therefore not at all interested in the rituals of courtship.Ginny took pity on him and engaged him in conversation, keeping half an ear on the exchange taking place next to her.

The only contact the Ministry had in Bali was an old Hindu priest, whose bailiwick covered most of the inhabited parts of the island.Julie explained that she had met him on several occasions and found it difficult to get any straight information out of him.

"It will take time," she told Harry, "And at present, time is the one thing you don't have.Try not to become impatient with him.If you want to find this magical artefact – the Syrinx – then you must go with the flow."

"Do you know anything about it?The Syrinx, I mean?"Ginny asked, quite forgetting she was supposed to be amusing Oliver.Julie shook her head slowly.

"Nothing concrete." She replied, to their disappointment."Well, nothing at all really, beyond a couple of vague references in ancient legend.Stuff we all learned in childhood.Anyway, I'll get word to you when I've made the arrangements".She glanced quickly in Oliver's direction.Harry nodded.

Unsurprisingly, when Oliver requested the pleasure of seeing Julie home, she accepted with alacrity.He was completely unable to disguise his delight and bustled about, seeing to her purse, her wrap and her empty glass before whisking her away into the night and an air-conditioned taxi.Ginny felt sorry for him, and rather annoyed with Harry for setting him up so blatantly.Nevertheless, they needed a conduit and Oliver fitted the bill precisely.There were things more important than personal relationships at present.As she linked arms with Harry and prepared to go up to their room, it hit her exactly how true that was of her own situation.

_Why can't we all just be left alone to get on with our lives?_ She thought resentfully.

_Because you chose to become involved with the Famous Harry Potter, that's why._ Came the reply almost instantly._Anyone involved with Harry takes on part of his responsibility.You can't avoid it, you shouldn't try to.It's your destiny to help and support him, and that's what Oliver is doing now, although he may not see it quite that way!_

~oo0oo~


	7. Gathering

Sorcerors' Endgame

Disclaimer:_This story is written for the purposes of my own amusement and, hopefully, that of my readers, and no profit of any kind is being generated by it or by either of its prequels.All characters and history belong to J.K. Rowling and to whosoever she has licensed her creations at the present time.I own the plot and the odd original character, nothing else._

**_Sorcerors' Endgame_** A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Penpusher Sequel to "By the Pricking of My Thumbs" 

**Chapter Six: Gathering******

The following morning found Harry and Ginny in a taxi cruising steadily out of the city centre.Ginny was still blinking the sleep out of her eyes, breakfast a mere memory of espresso and fresh-baked croissants.

"Harry," she began patiently."I'm not completely agin the practice of early rising, but I do like to have an idea as to why."Harry ignored her, gazing intently out of the window and pointing abruptly.

"It's down here, isn't it?" he said suddenly to the taxi driver.He was rewarded by an incomprehensible flood of Cantonese.Harry listened for a moment then smiled ruefully, spreading his hands wide.

"Okay, okay." He replied."It's been a long time – more than five years.Buildings come and go in this place – so do streets!If you reckon you know where it is, I'll just have to trust you."He sat back heavily in the seat and fumbled for Ginny's hand.

"Harry?" Her voice was questioning, but he just shook his head without looking at her.His face was serious, his fingers crushing hers in a too-strong grip.Ginny merely took a deep breath and subsided without teasing him any further._I'm learning,_ she said to herself.

The taxi sped through street after street, junction after junction.Gradually the traffic began to thin out, along with the width of the road.Ginny could not help but notice that they were entering a less prosperous area of town, whose architecture was at best functional and at worst downright ugly.Small factories and workshops with down-at-heel vehicles huddled close to ordinary dwelling houses, blocks of apartments poked their blunt discoloured heads into the skyline, stained and patchy concrete dominated.Ginny could keep quiet no longer.

"Harry," she whispered."Since when were you fluent in Cantonese?And what business do we have in this place?"Harry patted her hand apologetically as he released his death-grip.He shook his head.

"Wait." Was all he would say.

The taxi took a right into a small side-street which at first sight appeared to be no different from a dozen others they had left behind.The vehicle drew in beside a group of run-down workshops and Harry opened the door.A rush of heat and humidity made Ginny flinch instinctively, but nevertheless she took his proffered hand and stepped on to the pavement.Harry was now conversing in halting but evidently intelligible Cantonese with the driver who, amused beyond measure to find a European who could speak to him, agreed to wait for one hour.Harry bid him farewell, tucked Ginny's arm firmly through his own and strode purposefully across the street, looking for all the world as though the place was a second home to him.

They walked in silence for a few yards, then Harry stopped, wavered, and finally turned into a small, blind alley between two blocks of flats.Ginny shivered, glancing from side to side.This was not a healthy-looking place: she was grateful Harry had chosen to make his visit during daylight hours.As she examined her surroundings, Harry walked towards the blank wall at the end of the alley and started to count the bricks.Understanding began to dawn on Ginny and she stood passively watching the process.Once Harry was satisfied, he stepped back, drew his wand from its sleeve pocket and drew a careful circle in the air a foot or so away from the wall.

"_Retegoforis!_" he muttered quietly.The circle glowed gold then moulded itself sinuously into an arch fully six feet high.As though a giant invisible paintbrush were wielding Burnt Sienna, it rapidly filled with colour, gaining solidity and becoming recognisable as a door.It stood, unsupported and alone, the insalubrious alley surrounding it on all four sides.Harry grasped the doorknob and pulled, jerking his head at Ginny.

"Come on." He ordered."We really don't want to hang about here for too long."And with that, he took her hand and drew her through the door.

It opened on to a busy street, but such a one as had probably never been seen in Singapore for several centuries.The buildings were old but in good repair and decorated brightly with ceremonial dragons and flowers.The road was cobbled, the pavements were made of stone flags and there were no cars to be seen.By the roadside were hawkers selling all manner of goods the two wizards recognised – dried lacewings, beetles' eyes, frog skins, asafoetida – as well as some rather more rare, and dangerous, substances such as aconite (monkshood), boomslang skin and gillyweed.In addition to magical substances, there were stalls cooking and selling hawker food –chicken feet in spicy sauce, noodles, sticky fragrant riceballs, and hot and sour soup.The smells of the various delicacies made Ginny's mouth water, and she would have been tempted to stop for a snack had Harry not guided her through the throng at a businesslike pace.At once, Ginny stopped in her tracks.Her hand shot out, pointing.

"Oh, Harry - look!Pumpkin pasties!"The owner of the stall grinned.

"Indeed they are."He told them in perfect, accented English."Family recipe handed down from my great-great-grandmother who learned her trade at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"Ginny stared, dumbfounded.Harry, with great presence of mind, swept two pasties from the tray and fumbled for the correct coins.He thrust one into Ginny's hand as he rushed them away with a nod of thanks to the stallholder.Ginny ate her pasty on the run, but its succulent flavour was bittersweet with memories of her schooldays' innocence.Unaccountably, her eyes filled with tears.She brushed them away with impatience, swallowing the lump in her throat along with the last of her pasty.Harry was wiping crumbs from his fingers on a handkerchief as he looked keenly at a row of cottages.Finally, he selected one and rapped smartly on the door.

A small, timid-looking Chinese woman opened the door just a crack and regarded them with an expression of puzzlement.She said a few words in Cantonese then her eyes widened and so did the door.

"Harry?" she gasped."Is it really you?Oh, Merlin be praised!I thought never to see you again.Come in, come in!"Sporting a huge grin, Harry stepped over the threshold and into her arms.When she finally released him, her eyes were full of tears.

"We thought you would never return after – well, after Cho was killed." She told him shakily."We heard you had gone to America – as a teacher."Harry nodded.

"I did," he replied with a smile."But the lure of England was too strong for me."He glanced meaningfully over to where Ginny was standing hesitantly and took her hand.

"Yan-Ji, this is Ginny, my - partner." He said."She's my best friend's sister – you remember Ron Weasley?"Yan-Ji was nodding vigorously.

"Oh, yes!" she replied."We met Ron with you when we came to Cho's last open day at Hogwarts.And this is his little sister!How very beautiful you are, my dear.Harry, you would have been foolish to stay in America!"They all laughed, Ginny a little uncertainly.The grey-haired witch reached out to grasp Ginny's hands in hers.

"Our home is your home." She told her formally."Please, come in and take some refreshment."She drew the younger woman gently into the house without relinquishing her hands.

The cottage was a good deal larger than it seemed from the outside, as was true of many wizard dwellings, but nevertheless the number of people they encountered in the main living area would have been cramped for space in Westminster Abbey, or so it seemed to Ginny.It was as though the entire family was assembled in one small area – four generations of it.

Harry was greeted by many of them as an old friend, and he spent some time exchanging pleasantries while Ginny stood on the sidelines watching, feeling something of a spare part.

"Please forgive us for keeping him from you." A gentle voice said in her ear."It has been too long since we last saw Harry, and for some of us he brings memories that are both sweet and painful."Ginny turned her head to meet the gentle smile of a young man several years her junior.Her forehead creased in a brief frown before she returned the smile and held out her hand in greeting: there was something familiar about him – something in the way he moved, held his head …He introduced himself simply as Li and he proceeded to converse gently with her on harmless, neutral topics as they watched Harry being greeted by the family.

Harry, in turn, was trying hard not to rush this very necessary and genuine ritual, but in truth he had a legitimate errand and was anxious to discharge it before the morning was through.As Yan-Ji turned towards the kitchen to make refreshments, her husband, Zhi-Hui, was taking his turn to pump Harry's hand and slap his back heartily.Harry seized his chance.

"Zhi-Hui, much as I would like it to be different, I am afraid this is not entirely a social call."He began.The smaller man turned shrewd, bright eyes in a wrinkled face towards him.

"I did not for one moment imagine that it was, Harry." he replied softly."I still take the Daily Prophet – when I can get it – and I have long known how to read between its lines.You are in difficulties?"Harry nodded seriously.

"I can't go into detail," he said."But it involves a magical artefact, and time is very short indeed.I urgently need to talk to Li Bai."Zhi-Hui's face creased into a frown and he shook his head.

"You know I will do anything I can to help you, Harry, but you ask much."He began."Li Bai is very old and weak now.The slightest shock – "He shook his head.Harry's expression became slightly desperate.

"Please, Zhi-Hui!" he begged."I promise you, it's not what you think.This artefact is so mysterious that even we don't know what we're looking for.And our obtaining it is probably the only thing standing between us and certain destruction by the Dark Side.I swear I'm not looking for kudos or notoriety – not this time – but I really have to speak with Li-Bai, and I have to speak with him now.Every day that goes by brings the Dark Side closer to victory.I _have_ to find that artefact, and I believe Li-Bai's knowledge of history can shed a great deal of light on this problem."Zhi-Hui was still shaking his head.

"Harry," he told him seriously."You are like a son to me.I will not turn my back on you when you need help so desperately, but you forget how old my father is.He was already spending much of the daylight sleeping in his chair when you last met him.Now, although he has periods when he can converse with one or other of us, most of the time he lives within his own mind."Harry's face fell.He stared at the ground, bitterly disappointed.Then he raised his head once again.

"But you will let me try, won't you?" he pleaded."I don't ask this lightly, but we have so few sources of information and time is running out.Please."The older man considered one last time, then finally, reluctantly, bowed his head in assent.Harry let out a shaky breath.Zhi-Hui took his arm and indicated a doorway over the other side of the room.He walked towards it, Harry in his wake.

Li broke off his gentle conversation with Ginny to track the two men as they left the room.He frowned faintly.Ginny followed his gaze, then gave him a quizzical glance.The boy shrugged.

"They appear to be visiting my Grandfather – he's the only one not down here at the moment."Ginny was puzzled.

"Why would they do that?"Again the boy shrugged.

"Grandfather used to have great knowledge of the wizarding world in Indonesia." He told her."He's a bit gaga now, so it's difficult to see what Harry Potter would want with him."Ginny looked towards the door again, biting her lip.

Ginny didn't see Harry again for a good half hour.When he returned, she had been served with tea and what she had assumed was an early lunch, although Harry later told her that the spread set before her was simply "hospitality".She was stunned to realise that something very like this would be produced for any guest who happened to call, and at any time of day!They took their leave as quickly as they decently could, pleading the waiting taxi, but Harry made time to exchange a few parting words with Yan-Ji before they rushed away.

"I regret that this visit is so fleeting," he said, holding her hands and looking into her eyes apologetically."I hope to return one day soon on a far happier quest.When events allow us to, we will come and spend some time with you."She beamed back at him.

"Thank you, Harry." she replied. "You and yours will always be welcome in this house."In a curiously courtly gesture, he pressed both her hands to his lips.Releasing her, he turned to where the gentle young man, Li, was hovering.

"Li." He said, holding out a hand."My thanks for looking after Ginny."

"The pleasure was all mine." The boy replied suavely taking the proffered hand.He smiled broadly and a sudden shock of recognition shot through Ginny with the speed of an arrow._Cho!_She thought with utter certainty. _Li is her brother!_The young man turned back to the red-haired girl.

"I didn't say before, Ginny," he told her, "But 'Hold That Thought' was the best thing we've heard here for a long while – everybody thought so.You're almost more of a celebrity than Harry!"A chorus of laughter greeted that statement, and Harry took the boy's hand, enveloping him in a bear hug.Releasing him, he nodded briefly, gave a silent wave of farewell to the rest of the family and left, grasping Ginny's hand firmly in his own.

~oo0oo~

Harry was silent and brooding as the taxi drove back into town.Ginny, bursting with questions, was unable to give voice to any of them.First and foremost were _Why didn't you tell me you were taking me to visit Cho's family?Don't you think I might have been happier with a little warning?_Closely following those came _What did we go there for in the first place,_ and_ Did you get it?_She sat in silence, waiting for Harry to notice her.Finally, he gave a great sigh, fumbled for her hand and raised his eyes to hers.At last she felt he was really seeing her.

"Well?" she said gently, prompting.He sighed again, looking away and playing with her fingers.

"I didn't tell you where we were going because I wasn't sure how I was going to cope with it." He began without preamble.He looked back at her.

"I was intending to tell you last night, but we got distracted.Then I was going to tell you over breakfast, but we overslept."He looked out of the window.

"I needed to speak to Cho's grandfather – about the Syrinx." He explained."Li-Bai probably had the most influence on my decision to spend my life studying ancient artefacts.He was a world-renowned expert.He taught me so much I can't even begin to explain."Harry looked at the floor.

"I had hoped he might have some information to impart on our present problem.However," he sighed again."He is indeed getting very old.It was difficult to hold a conversation with him."

"Did you learn anything at all?"Ginny asked.Harry gave a wry smile.

"Do you know, I'm not entirely sure?" He confessed."Most of the time, he rambled.He lives mainly in the past, you know, and he mistook me for his former Ancient History Professor!"Harry scratched his head and his forehead furrowed in puzzlement.

"If it had been anyone else, I would have dismissed it," he began slowly."And even now, I'm tempted to take it at face value, but …" he trailed off, shaking his head.

"What is it?" prompted Ginny.

"He was railing on about the stupidity of his fellow students," Harry told her."When suddenly, he looked at me as though for the first time – real clarity in his eyes.'Harry'. he said – he knew who I was – "Harry, look for the Father, look for Pan.'Then the moment faded and he went back into his own mind."Ginny was puzzled.

"But we know about Pan and Syrinx," she replied."Hermione told us the whole story when she read the prophecy."Harry nodded.

"I know," he agreed."But I can't help feeling that there was more to it.I'm sorry – I'm probably chasing my tail here, I expect we all are on this ridiculous quest – but I felt he meant something deeper than that."He ran a hand through his hair in exasperation and looked at her despairingly.

"I'm sorry." He said."I guess I'm so desperate for information I'll swallow anything if it looks as though it'll fit.I've put you through all that for nothing, Ginny."He swallowed and looked out of the window, blinking.

"The last time I was here, Cho and I announced our engagement."Ginny froze.

"You and Cho – were engaged?I didn't know that."Harry was shaking his head.

"No one knew.Only her family." He replied."After she died, it didn't exactly seem right to talk about it.After all, it wasn't as though we were even living together, let alone married."He sighed and looked out of the window.Ginny swallowed on a dry throat, trying to process the information.

"You never thought to tell me?" she asked quietly.Harry shook his head.

"I couldn't seem to find the right time." He replied."When you and I were in the early stages, we were either fighting the Dark Side or being attacked by them in some way or other.When I returned from that debacle in Mexico, you were suffering from the after-effects of Malfoy's enchantment, and dragging skeletons out of closets didn't seem to be what the doctor ordered at that time.I really wasn't trying to hide anything, Ginny.I guess this is the first real opportunity I've had to talk to you about it."Ginny fell silent.Harry felt despair cover him like a damp cloak of fog.

"Don't hold it against me." he pleaded, holding both her hands in his."Cho died.I don't hold a torch for her now, that faded away long ago.It's you I love, you're the one I want to spend my life with.Please don't let this drive a wedge between us."Ginny, abruptly roused from her fit of abstraction, blinked then stared.

"Why should I want to do that?" she asked, surprised.Harry shrugged.

"I thought – well, you know, that you might – well – "

"Go off the deep end because you'd been keeping secrets from me?Yes, I suppose I deserved that."Smiling somewhat grimly, Ginny leaned towards the man she was beginning to accept as her life partner.

"Harry," she began."Yes, I do wish you'd warned me before this morning and no, I don't think you deliberately kept anything from me.I think you were as unnerved by this visit as I was, and I don't think you would have undertaken it without good reason.Yes, Harry, I know you love me.I believe you – and no, I'm not going to give you any grief over this.Merlin knows, you've had enough of that over the years."Harry blinked owlishly behind his spectacles, and gave a brief, tentative smile of relief. He squeezed her hand in silent gratitude, but his face quickly returned to its brooding expression.

"I remember falling for Cho when I was in my fourth year at Hogwarts."He began reminiscently.Ginny swallowed an irrational pang of jealousy and set herself to listen carefully._Whatever he says, however much you hate it, you can work through it later.Not everything is about you._She leaned forward and ran a reassuring hand through his unruly hair.

"Tell me." she said.

"It was a very childish crush." He continued, smiling faintly."I worshipped the ground she walked on.Then Cedric was killed."He paused to take a deep breath.He looked at the floor.

"After that, I fell out of love with her."He didn't look up."It sounds cruel, but I was very young and many things had happened to me which should rightly only happen to someone fully mature and able to cope with such affairs.I stopped loving Cho because I felt responsible for Cedric's death.It seemed dirty and disgusting to even consider moving in on his girlfriend after I had inadvertently got him involved with Voldemort."He sighed and pulled at his collar, even though the air conditioning in the taxi made the temperature frigid.

"And then, in her final year, there was that ghastly mix-up over the guest list for the Winter Ball."Their eyes met in mutual chagrin.Ginny closed her eyes: that was the one where she'd ended up partnering Colin Creevey!Harry smiled and continued.

"Cho didn't seem to mind being stuck with me," he said."But I was absolutely mortified.I got so drunk on Butterbeer that she had to hold my head over Moaning Myrtle's toilet for an hour straight.By morning, I was suicidal, but she made a point of greeting me at breakfast as though nothing had happened.No one ever heard about the time Harry Potter puked his guts up over a ghost – I don't know what Cho had on Myrtle, but it worked!"Ginny laughed in surprise and nodded.

"You're right." She told him."Nothing of that ever reached me, and you can be sure I would have heard about it – I was the president of your fan club, remember?"

"I certainly do!" he replied, giving her a brief smile.Then he sighed, returning to the past.

"That's how it all started between Cho and me."He continued, his eyes faraway."While we were at school, things were pretty – well, you know, adolescent.Quick kisses behind curtains and statues, longer makeout sessions in empty classrooms after hours – the Owlery was a good place, if you could stand the cold!"He laughed softly, shaking his head.Ginny's face was frozen in a stiff smile._That could have been me,_ her mind screamed, _I could have been making out with Harry in the Charms Room all those years ago.If only Cho …_She shook her head almost imperceptibly.This had very little to do with Cho.If Cedric had still been alive, it was likely that Harry and Cho would never had hooked up at all._If you need someone to blame, then choose Voldemort!I_She hung her head, shamed.

"I loved her, but I never really knew her terribly well." Harry's face was pensive. "She was – different, unlike me, somehow exotic.I remember how shocked I was the first time she asked me to sleep with her."Ginny bit her tongue._Yes, I knew Harry was no innocent the first time he bedded me.Out of practice, yes, but not inexperienced.And he told me himself he'd been celibate since Cho's death – Q.E.D .So why do I feel sick?_Clenching her teeth, she murmured vague nothings in what she hoped was an encouraging tone.

"We would have lived together." He continued, oblivious to her discomfiture."The plan was for me to get a job with the Ministry in research once I graduated, and then move in with her."Harry shook his head again then raised his eyes to skewer Ginny with a gaze so intense that all her emotional pain suddenly took a back seat.

"But I could never have gone through with the marriage, I know that now," He said quietly and with dignity."And neither would she.Cho liked the notoriety and the status that went with being Harry Potter's girlfriend in those days, and she was sincerely fond of me and physically attracted in the beginning, but the sheer nitty gritty of living with my gods-awful destiny was beginning to tell.The most tragic thing about her death was that it was totally unnecessary – our relationship was drawing to a natural close anyway."

"Nevertheless, you exiled yourself to L.A. out of a misplaced sense of guilt." Ginny told him softly."So despite his misreading of the situation, Voldemort still succeeded."

"No he didn't!" Harry's voice was urgent and his hands gripped her shoulders painfully.

"He never succeeded in crushing me, and neither will his minions!"Harry's face was wild, but his clear, green eyes burned into hers with total sanity.

"My destiny was never with Cho, always with you." He whispered."If only I could make you believe that – make you really have faith in me."

"Harry." Her arms slid around his neck and she breathed his name softly, desolately into his ear.

~oo0oo~

"Harry, where on earth are we going now?I thought I'd had enough surprises for one day."Harry, having recovered his good spirits, tucked her arm firmly into his.

"It's no secret." He grinned at her."We're going to get some lunch."Harry had paid off the taxi not at their hotel, but on a wide main road opposite a very large complex.He hurried her down a side street and into an old-fashioned basement filled to the brim with stalls, cooking and selling many different kinds of street food – soups, dumplings, fish, greens, some hot, some sweet, all freshly cooked and mouth-watering.

Ginny frowned and wiped beads of sweat from her forehead.

"Why didn't we have lunch back in the magical alley where Cho's family live?"She demanded.She certainly had a point: the place was small, rather grimy, absolutely packed with Singapore nationals and had no air-conditioning – facts she quickly drew to Harry's attention.He shrugged.

"Fred recommended the dumplings," Was his succinct reply.Ginny stared in disbelief and blotted her face with a handkerchief.

Five minutes later, hot and extremely bothered, Ginny at last secured two spaces at the end of a long, low table.She didn't know who to blame most for this little fiasco, Harry or her interfering, infuriating brother.Ten minutes later, sampling a tray of steaming hot food, she instantly forgave them both.Traditional rice dumplings (Tang-Yuan) are difficult to find in Singapore and these were well worth the trouble.Stuffed with a delicious red bean or yam filling and served in a sweet peanut soup, Ginny could have eaten double the quantity out of sheer greed.Fortified by refreshing jasmine tea, the two wizards almost forgot the stifling heat.

"Join you?" The man was wearing a baseball cap low enough to shadow his eyes.Without waiting for a reply, he slid his tray onto the table and swung his lean hips into a chair with a peculiarly balanced grace.He turned to Harry and tilted the brim of his hat to reveal a wide grin in a mahogany-tanned face.

"Good to see you, Harry." He said, helping himself to some sambal chilli."And you, Ginny."

"Sirius?" said Ginny in a small voice, just about maintaining a straight face.He leaned across to kiss her cheek.

"The very same." He replied, pumping Harry's hand warmly."I was briefed to meet you in Bali, but Fred suggested this _rendez-vous_.I'm not entirely sure why, but I think his antennae must have been twitching again.Have you been having problems, Harry?"The other man shook his head.

"Nothing we can sort at present, no." He told his godfather."Lucius Malfoy is on the move, I hear, and it's pretty certain that the Singapore Office has been infiltrated."Sirius nodded, his smile fading.

"Yes, I heard some information to that effect via Fred." He replied."Any idea as to who you're dealing with?"Harry shook his head.

"Not a one," he replied."But our contact seems to know what she's doing."Sirius's expression became grim.

"Your contact is in Intelligence?"Harry nodded.

"Are you sure of her?"Harry pursed his lips and took a long breath.

"As sure we can be at the moment." He replied.Ginny turned a shocked face towards him.

"You suspect Julie might be a double?" she gasped."Oh, Harry!But she had all those proofs – how could she have come by the parchment?And she knew Fred!"But Sirius had stiffened.

"Julie?" he asked, urgently."Do you mean Julie Wu?"Harry nodded, surprised.

"Yes.Do you know her?"Sirius broke into a wide grin and relaxed back into his seat.

"I do indeed!" he told them, amused."I knew Julie very well at one time."

"Oh?" Ginny raised her eyebrows.Sirius shook his head.

"No, nothing like that." he replied quickly."More's the pity." He added, smiling reminiscently.Ginny tapped the table.

"Mind on the job, Sirius." She reprimanded him.He smiled sheepishly.

"Three years ago, I was sent on a routine assignment here." He told them."It was a sinecure really.I needed some R & R – I'd been injured in a very tough mission and the wound was slow to heal.Julie squired me around the city for a couple of weeks – and I assure you, it was that way round.That young lady knows her own mind!"Ginny's smile turned slightly wistful as she thought of poor Oliver's forlorn hopes.

Harry began to speak to Sirius in low rapid tones: he and Ginny would be leaving Singapore the following evening for Denpasar by plane, arrangements courtesy of the Ministry.Sirius paused, crammed some noodles into his mouth, swallowed, then replied thoughtfully.

"Do you really have to fly muggle-style?"Harry nodded with a grim smile.

"Yes, we do.Unfortunately, Ginny has attracted some unexpected – ah, attention here.Apparently her band was very popular and people recognise her.If we Apparate or Port to Denpasar, we'll be spotted.That'll be as sure a way of advertising where we are as a flare in the night sky."Sirius nodded slowly, finishing his lunch.

"I'd better see about making tracks myself then."He told them, rising to his feet and picking up his tray.

"I'll see you at the hotel," He told them."But I'd better sweep it thoroughly before you go anywhere near the place.For all we know, Lucius Malfoy could have half the staff under Imperius and the place festooned with hexes."His parting smile was somewhat grim: it wasn't really a joke.

~oo0oo~

On arrival back at their hotel, Ginny and Harry were greeted by a rather impatient Oliver Wood who rushed towards them as soon as they entered the foyer.

"I've been waiting forever." he complained in injured tones."I've drunk so much coffee I could swim in it!"Harry swiftly directed him towards a quiet corned by means of a heavy hand between his shoulderblades.

"You have news?" he asked in a low voice, sitting down on a squashy sofa.

"Yes." Oliver told him tersely."Julie sent a messenger to the Quidditch Ground."He seemed extremely aggrieved that she hadn't come in person.

"She's set up a meeting with this priest person she mentioned last night.His name is Guru."

"Guru?" queried Ginny puzzled. "What an odd name.What does it mean?"Neither of the boys heard her quiet interjection.Oliver handed Harry a small slip of parchment.

"I wrote down the details here, but according to the messenger, you'd better destroy that parchment as soon as you've read it.Julie is absolutely adamant that none of us keeps anything in writing, if you know what she means.Which, quite frankly, I'm sure I don't."Oliver ran an irritated hand through his hair, reducing what had been reasonably tidy to an instant bird's nest.Ginny laid a gentle hand on his arm.

"Oliver?" she queried."Is something wrong?"He levelled a gaze of complete frustration at Ginny, then suddenly expelled a pent-up breath and shook his head.

"Damned if I know." He replied then thumped a cushion hard with a clenched fist.

"Why is nothing ever simple?" he demanded of no one in particular."Why can't I just meet a nice girl who has a boring, run-of-the-mill day job, who isn't an intellectual bombshell or, worse, some kind of female James Bond?What is it about me that I'm instantly attracted to hopeless cases?"_James Bond? _thought Ginny, puzzled.

"Eh?What was that, Oliver?" said Harry, glancing up from perusing the piece of parchment.Ginny gave him a look, then turned to Oliver consolingly.

"You've taken a liking to Julie?" she prompted.Oliver snorted indelicately.

"In a manner of speaking." He replied.Leaning back against the cushions, he sighed with ill-disguised irritation.

"It's like this." He began, leaning forward again."I knew she was Harry's contact and that was why she had spoken to us in the first place, but I rather hoped she'd spilt coffee on me rather than on Harry because – because – well, you know."He flushed a dull brick red.Ginny took pity on him.

"You thought she might have taken a liking to you too?"

"Stupid of me, eh?" Oliver made an exclamation of annoyance."In the taxi, we seemed to be getting on like a house on fire.We get to her flat, she invites me up for coffee.Well!"Ginny's eyebrows threatened to meet her hairline.

"And did you go?"

"Like a shot.Couldn't get out of the taxi fast enough!"Oliver paused, leaning his chin in his hands gloomily.

"As soon as we got through the front door, she straight-armed me into the living room.Flamel's Stone, I admit I wondered if I'd got in out of my depth for a moment!Then she sits me down on a hard chair and proceeds to give me instructions about how to be an efficient go-between.A go-between!"He put a despairing hand to his forehead.

"In other words, any time I have with Julie will be spent strenuously _not_ doing what the Dark Side will assume comes naturally."He sighed heavily."Which, I must confess, does not exactly fill me with boundless enthusiasm."Ginny gazed at him in helpless sympathy.

"Oh, Oliver!" she sighed."You don't seem to have much luck with women, do you?"

"Tell me about it." He muttered, rising abruptly from the sofa.

"And now, if you'll excuse me," he continued, still frowning."I will return to the Quidditch Stadium – where, I might add, I have been expected for the past hour.A pity Julie didn't think to send a message there too, but then," he shrugged in exaggerated sarcasm. "She leads such a busy life."He swept out in high dudgeon.Harry looked up from his parchment as the light breeze occasioned by Oliver's abrupt departure ruffled his hair.

"What?" he queried, glancing around."Where's Oliver?Has he gone already?I thought he'd stay for a cup of tea or a drink or something."Ginny gave him a despairing glance and rose from the sofa.

"Right now, I think Oliver could do with several glasses of Ogden's Old Firewhisky!" she told him."And I for one could do with a long, cool bath and dinner in the restaurant, followed by a good night's sleep.If we really have to travel muggle-style to Denpasar, I want to be prepared!"

~oo0oo~

The journey had been hot, crowded and short of fluids, Harry decided as they waited patiently for their luggage.Changi Airport in Singapore had been spacious, air-conditioned and modern, full of glass and concrete, bristling with shops and stores.Denpasar Arrivals, on the other hand, appeared to be little more than a disused aircraft hangar.He had been told with repeated frequency that the airport was in the process of being renovated.He looked wearily at the brand, spanking new complex across the tarmac and wondered what message the muggle designers were trying to convey by rebuilding Departures first.

If he hadn't been so tired, he would have seen it coming.As it was, a flicker at the corner of his eye as he bent to haul a suitcase from the carousel was enough to send him into reflex action.Harry promptly dropped his burden, spun quickly on one heel and dived to the floor behind the meagre protection of an empty trolley.A smoking hole the size of a soccer ball appeared in the side of his suitcase.His wand slid smoothly from his sleeve pocket into his right hand.

"_Vestigio._" He muttered, immediately alert for the thin trail of silver which would show, to his eyes only, the whereabouts of his would-be assassin.Sure enough, there it was – snaking quickly through the air towards the back of the building.Harry sent a heat-seeking charm along the trail, together with a spell for solidity in order to keep the trail visible.His head jerked suddenly as a thin cry of distress broke through the airport hubbub.He turned towards it only to see Ginny struggling wildly against an obviously muggle adversary.Harry was torn: the unseen magical attacker was by far the most dangerous, but hang it, Ginny was in trouble!As he paused in agonised indecision, he saw a blur of movement and a trainer-shod foot connected with the muggle assailant's jaw, swiftly followed by another in the gut and a solid roundhouse punch to the chin.The muggle heavy went down like a stone, but two more came forward, anxious to finish the job, both thickset and stocky with unmistakeably oriental features.They growled menacingly at Ginny's unexpected champion who was now braced for action in classic martial arts stance.He was smiling, a wide, white smile in a chocolate-coloured face and beckoning with all ten fingers.

"Mouse?"Ginny choked out in astonishment.The lithe black man nodded without turning and his grin spread even wider.

"Da man himself."His lazy drawl was quiet and confident."Let's jus' see how these assholes deal with an expert."He raised his voice and gestured to his assailants, his body language crude and insulting.

"You wanna piece of me?"He shouted derisively. "Well, _come and get it!_Come on!"He beckoned mockingly as the muggles hesitated, obviously phased by the change of scenario.

"What's up wid'ja?Scared maybe?"Mouse sighed with exaggerated patience and rolled his eyes, but his stance did not waver by a millimetre.

"You jus' can't get good help these days!"He told them contemptuously."Okay – I'll tell ya – if the guy who hired you's short on a few heads after I've broken yours, jus' let him know my grandpappy ain't busy for a couple weeks and could do with the extra money.Just as soon as he finishes his eightieth birthday celebrations – he wouldn't wanna miss them!"

With a roar, one of the heavies leaped at Mouse who neatly sidestepped, tripping the guy in mid-air, depositing him neatly on the floor.Harry caught a swift movement in his right eye and turned just in time to see Ginny, now free, advance determinedly on the other.Before the man had time even to raise his hands, she had kicked him firmly in the kneecap, paralysing his left leg and, while he was doubled up in agony, brought her own knee under his chin with considerable force and devastating effect.Mouse turned to salute her.

"Dat's ma girl!" he crowed, flooring a further attacker with an almost absent-minded kick in the solar plexus.

Harry tore his eyes away from the spectacle and focussed his energies on the activities of the Tracking Charm.The thin trail had stabilised and turned red – _Eureka!_Harry felt like cheering.Carefully, and with great delicacy, he began to construct a rather specialised hex he had learned in LA.

"_Incendiofero!_" he cried aloud, touching his wand to the very end of the crimson line.It burst into flame like a trail of gunpowder, and the magical Wildfire leaped up the thin stream, gathering speed as it ran.It whipped between the crowds of unsuspecting muggles and disappeared to the very back of the building.A faint high screaming rang out above the noise of the crowd: Harry paid it no attention.Feeling some movement behind him, he turned sharply to see Ginny crawling quickly to his side followed closely by Mouse.There seemed to be some sort of riot going on.

"We better split."Mouse told him hastily."Leave you' stuff, you can get it later.Let's just move!"Harry nodded.

"Not that there's much to retrieve." He muttered with a wry look at the smouldering remains of his suitcase.Still on his hands and knees, he followed the others between the legs of the crowd until they landed up under a table.

"Okay," whispered Mouse."Get us outta here, Harry."But Ginny was already performing the spell.Mussed hair, torn clothes and streaks of dirt down her face, her hands were nevertheless sure and confident on the wand, and she cast the Everyday charm swiftly and with skill.As the three slid through the seething crowd, past panicking officials and under the very noses of the Airport Police without eliciting so much as a raised eyebrow, Harry gave a resigned sigh at the inevitable damage both to property and reputations.

"Does Lucius Malfoy give a toss _what_ he destroys in his worthless crusade?" he wondered aloud.Ginny, caught up in the counterspell, failed to respond.A lone steward was somewhat startled by three stray passengers suddenly stepping into the foreground, two of whom seemed decidedly dishevelled, but his attention was somewhat distracted by the events going on in Arrivals: the area seemed to have become a war zone.

"Dude, this place is getting' to be one ba-a-ad neighbourhood!"Mouse exclaimed, as they exited the building into what seemed to be a country road, scanning the area for taxis.Harry turned to his companion.

"Thanks, Mouse." He said sincerely."You saved us back there, you know.Whoever orchestrated this was very clever.They knew I would be occupied in disabling our magical assailant and that Ginny could not use her magical skills against muggles.Without your vigilance, they might have succeeded in disabling us, perhaps worse."Mouse nodded, grinned hugely and spread his hands.

"Hey, man!" he told him."Whatcha pay me for, huh?"He then proceeded to relate, not without humour, the sequence of events that had resulted in their unorthodox departure from the airport buildings. There had been a number of muggle assailants, he explained, all of whom appeared to be of local origin.He had realised immediately that Harry was fighting a battle of his own with a very different adversary, and he and Ginny quickly flattened three of the ungodly within the first five minutes.However, several members of the public turned out to be fans of "Hold that Thought" and had recognised Ginny immediately.Incensed that their heroine was being publicly attacked, they waded in with gusto and pulverised the other four.Sadly after that, it became less clear who was friend and who foe, and the situation deteriorated rapidly.It was then that Mouse had opted for discretion, ducked below eye level and told Harry to get them the hell out of it.His smile faded and his face became serious.

"I guess my cover's not as good as it was now." He told them ruefully."I better not be seen much more with you, Harry, or people will start thinking we're pickin' out curtains or somethin'."He smiled briefly, then returned to his former serious tone.

"Harry," he said earnestly."Do you'self a big favour and guard you' butt.We jus' played one of our major backup cards, and we ain't even got started."He raised his head and looked straight at them.

"I been asking some questions in Downtown Singapore."He said."The brothers there don't know nothin' 'bout who you are or what you do, but they know you's bein' watched.Someone gotta big interest in you, man."Harry sighed. 

"You don't know the half of it, Mouse."There was a flash of white as Mouse grinned briefly.

"You wanna put money on that?"They exchanged a brief glance, then Harry's mouth relaxed.

"I guess you're telling me to be careful, huh?"Mouse nodded slowly and made a wry face.

"I better find somewhere to stay." He said picking up the backpack he had somehow managed to snag from the luggage carousel before war was declared."You won't see me, but I'll be there – watchin' you' ass.Hope I be surplus to requirements, but somehow I don' think so."He loped away from them, melting into the background.Ginny smoothed her hair as best she could and looked questioningly at Harry.

"Lucius Malfoy's men, d'you think?"Harry nodded.

"The wizard I barbecued could possibly have been Pettigrew." He told her."I hope so – oh, I really hope so!"He sighed and looked into her eyes.

"Whoever it was has to have been working on Lucius Malfoy's orders."Harry scowled and continued in a wry tone."He's certainly come down in the world. The old Lucius we knew and hated at school wouldn't have soiled his hands with anything muggle.I guess age and experience must have taught him their value as cannon-fodder, if nothing else."His words were bitter.He shook his head.

"Ginny, I hate that man." Harry said quietly, lines of anger etching his face, making him look much older than his years."I always thought that Draco was a chip off the old block, but I never realised until recently how extraordinarily evil that old block is!"Abruptly, he gestured to a taxi.Ginny stroked his arm silently, her thoughts chaotic._Is Draco really that much like his father?_ She wondered. _Lucius would have ensorcelled me as soon as look at me.He'd have gone to it with a will and cast me aside like some used rag once he'd finished with me!So why didn't Draco?_Despite the burning heat, she shivered involuntarily.

~oo0oo~


	8. Bali

Bali Default Normal Default 3 2180 2001-10-31T08:50:00Z 2001-10-31T22:27:00Z 10 6869 39157 326 78 48087 9.2720 4.5 pt 2 2 

Disclaimer:  _This story is written for the purposes of my own amusement and, hopefully, that of my readers, and no profit of any kind is being generated by it or by either of its prequels.  All characters and history belong to J.K. Rowling and to whosoever she has licensed her creations at the present time.  I own the plot and the odd original character, nothing else._

Credit to 99Bali.com (NEXT Technology Marketing Group) for the "extract from Ginny's guidebook".  Credit to UBOS for the term "Techno-Wizard".

**_Sorcerors' Endgame_** A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Penpusher Sequel to "By the Pricking of My Thumbs" 

**Chapter Seven: Bali******

Ginny sat on a comfortable wooden bench gazing up at the cloudless blue sky and listening to the quiet, mesmerising music in wordless delight.  She had never seen such a beautiful place, such a paradise.  She glanced over to where Harry was negotiating with Reception for the services of a car and driver.  She shook her head in wonderment.  On their arrival the previous evening, long past sunset, she had passed through the Foyer without a second glance, anxious only to get to their room, unpack and sleep.  Now she realised that what she had thought was a closed-in entrance hall was in actuality open to the skies!  The sunlight poured in, glancing off the pillars of polished wood, revealing subtle colours in the grey, stone floors, playing over the endlessly moving surface of the small stream that meandered through the hotel site.  Water was an important part of the religion of Bali, as were the other elements, she had noticed.  Everywhere she and Harry had set foot in the hotel, they had seen offerings – flowers, food, incense, and a kind of origami made from palm leaves – left as tribute to the spirits of Earth, Fire and Water.  Later, she learned that to the Balinese, the spirits of Air were bringers of ill-luck and, as such, were not venerated in the same manner.  

She closed her eyes, drinking in the astonishing peace and tranquillity of the place, feeling the breeze over her face, the warmth of the sun on her cheeks.  Nearby, a small group of musicians with bamboo xylophones was playing a rhythmic, repetitive music in an unfamiliar, although pleasant, tonality.  From her musical studies, Ginny recognised the style as traditional to the island and smiled in contentment, letting the hypnotic sounds wash over her.  Drifting, drifting, like a leaf on the surface of the water, sunlight glinting from the endless rippling, a face swimming into focus, a woman with long, almost white hair and silver eyes ...

"Hey, don't go to sleep on me!"  She jerked back into alertness, only to see Harry's gentle smile as he took her hand to lead her to the taxi.  They relaxed into the deep leather seats and Harry looked closely at her, frowning slightly.

"Are you okay?  You can't be that tired after sleeping for ten hours straight, surely!"  Ginny shook her head, slightly disorientated.

"No, it – it's nothing.  Really."  She smiled with a brightness she did not entirely feel.  She rather regretted the fact that Harry had interrupted her little, well, _meditation_ seemed to be the best word to describe it.  She had no recollection of ever having seen a face such as that one.  If only she had been able to get a clearer – Ginny clamped down hard on her thoughts.  _Come on!  Even on a good day, Trelawney never managed to get even a sniff of precognition out of you.  Second possibly to Hermione, you were her least receptive pupil!  There's no way you're going to start having premonitions now, it's just your imagination – helped a good deal by the breathtaking beauty of this place, I expect._

She was so taken up with her own thoughts that she didn't notice Harry pause before getting in the car.  His head jerked up, a strange expression on his face, as though he were straining to hear some elusive sound.  Breaking out of her own reverie, she laid a questioning hand on his arm.  He let it lie for a moment, then brought one of his own round to caress it gently.  In answer to her gently enquiring look, he shook his head slightly and climbed into the back seat of the car.  The breeze whipped around her flimsy dress as she followed him.

Ginny and Harry had eaten breakfast that morning at one of the seven on-site restaurants.  After rising rather later than they intended, showering and dressing, they left the discreet apartment block which housed their suite.  They wandered through well-marked pathways flanked by tropical vegetation on both sides, across bamboo walkways and stone bridges over the meandering stream, and finally to the restaurant of their choice.  This was constructed in traditional style on a wooden platform in the centre of a small, shallow lake, reached by a small wooden bridge.  Breakfast offered a vast choice of foods: tropical fruits, eggs cooked to order – simply or more exotically, English bacon (amazingly!), local cured meats and fish, cheeses, yoghurts, fruit drinks, any hot beverages – and even cornflakes.  Afterwards, Ginny had been sorely tempted to sample the delights of the six different swimming pools – including one designed as a gently-flowing river, but Harry had vetoed her plans until later.  Their late rising had left them with very little time before the appointment with their local contact, so Ginny had to content herself with admiring the facilities at a distance for the present.

Now she was studying the view from the window of the taxi with equal interest.  Their hotel was in Nusa Dua – a small peninsular off the south coast of the island.  The driver they hired was taking them in a northerly direction, beyond the environs of Denpasar, the nearest large town, and out into the open spaces.   For reasons known only to himself, they were to meet their contact at the oldest Hindu Temple on Bali, Harry informed her, a holy place by the name of Besakih.  Ginny frowned – the name "Guru" was still niggling her for some reason.

It took them the rest of the morning to get there.

The temple was extremely crowded.  Harry studied a map, squinting at his surroundings, trying to establish his bearings while Ginny leaned on the bonnet of the car, reading what her muggle guidebook had to say about the temple:

**B**esakih.  Known as the "mother Temple of Bali," the sanctuary of Besakih is the biggest and holiest of all Balinese temples. This complex consists of 22 separate structures and is perched high on the slopes of Mt. Agung. The temples were built between the 14th and 17th centuries. Prominently featured are the three seats in the lotas throne, in which shrines are dedicated to Brahma (right), Siwa (center) and Wisnu (left). 

Over a thousand years old, steps ascend through split gates to the main courtyard where the Trinity shrines are wrapped in cloth and decorated with flower offerings. Around the three main temples dedicated to the Trinity: Shiva, Brahma and Wisnu, are 18 separate sanctuaries belonging to different regencies and caste groups. 

To the Balinese, a visit to the temples sanctuaries is a special pilgrimage. Each has its own anniversary celebration or "Odalan". The sight of the temple against the background of the mountain is impressive and during festivals, colored banners add a touch of gaiety. 

She looked about her in dismay.  The guidebook also told her that there were 60 different temples in this complex - over 200 separate buildings.  Flamel's Stone!  How were they going to find their way through this lot?  She sincerely hoped Harry knew what he was doing.

As it happened, he did.  Harry had been given detailed instructions by Julie Wu as to the meeting place and, by the judicious use of a Locating Charm on his muggle map, he managed to get them there with a minimum of hassle.

"This is it?" queried Ginny as they entered an obviously little-used part of the complex.  The pathways were overgrown here in noticeable contrast to the barren, well-trodden ways of the main area, and the temple was so tiny and simple as to be more of a monument than a place of worship.  A wisp of smoke hung lazily in the air and Ginny breathed in the intoxicating smell of incense.  Following hard on Harry's heels, she almost cannoned into him as he rounded a corner and stopped suddenly, rocking back on his heels in reaction.  To maintain her balance, Ginny stepped out from behind him and then came to a similar abrupt halt.  A few yards ahead of them a figure knelt in silent contemplation before a small shrine.  

The man was old, that much was obvious by his stooping gait and the whiteness of his long beard and hair.  He paid them no attention but as they watched, he bowed several times and carefully lit a stick of incense, placing it in a holder where several others were already smouldering.  He bowed his head once again in prayer. 

Just as Ginny's feet were starting to protest her immobility, the old man spoke to her, quietly and without turning from the shrine.

"You are as beautiful as your reputation would have you be," He said.  "And you hope to find the answers to your questions on our island."  Finally he raised his lined face to Ginny and smiled.

"Welcome, my daughter." He got to his feet, brushed the dust from his robes and moved forward to take her hands in his.  Unable to speak, she opened and shut her mouth like a goldfish, then flushed deeply as she realised how ridiculous she must look.

"This is Miss Ginny Weasley," Harry approached them carefully.  "And I am Harry Potter.  We came here on instructions from our contact in Singapore, Julie Wu."  The old man was nodding.

"All this I know." He replied amiably.  He turned to Harry.

"So you are the one who brings chaos wherever he goes, eh?"  Totally wrong-footed, Harry stared in surprise.  Ginny's face darkened.

"Now that's not fair!" she protested.  "Nor is it accurate.  The Dark Side have been trying to kill Harry since he was a child."  The old man nodded, his bland smile never faltering.

"I did not name him responsible for the harm done, child, merely as the catalyst." He replied without rancour.  He lapsed into a composed silence, evidently waiting for something.  Harry shuffled his feet.

"So," he began.  "Your name is Guru, yes?"  The old man nodded slowly without looking up.

"It's a strange name." blurted Ginny uneasily.  The old man turned towards her.

"I mean," she floundered.  "We know you're a Holy Man, a priest – so why say it twice?"  He bowed his head, partially closing his eyes.

"You may call me Guru."  Was all the reply he gave.  There was a short silence then the old man sighed and sank unexpectedly to the ground to sit cross-legged.  Harry quickly did likewise followed with slight reluctance by Ginny.

"You seek the answer to the riddle of Syrinx." Guru told them without preamble.  "I have heard of your prophecy."

"Is it genuine?" Harry leaned forward with interest.  Guru shook his head.

"Time will tell." He replied easily.  "Why do you wish to unravel this prophecy?  Why do you seek the Syrinx?"  Harry and Ginny exchanged glances.  This information was highly classified.  Arthur would put them through the wringer if they so much as hinted at the reasons behind their quest – and Harry dreaded to contemplate Tantalus Brown's reaction.  Oddly, it was the abrupt recollection of Brown that decided Harry: he was damned if he would kowtow to an overweight bureaucrat with delusions of grandeur.  He took a deep breath.

"Ginny and I inadvertently stumbled upon a freak talent." He began carefully.  "We discovered that in moments of extreme need or danger, we can – well – bond.  Our minds become joined, fused, and our – powers combine.  We can feel, hear each other's inmost thoughts, touch each other's very essence."  The old man made no sign of having heard.

"It's a very powerful ability." Ginny began in a quavering voice.  "During the few times it has been activated, we have been able to protect ourselves and our friends and allies from forces immeasurably greater than we can boast individually."

"And what makes you consider yourselves worthy to have control over something so powerful, eh?"  The sharp tone was unexpected.  The old man sat stiffly, glaring at them from under bushy eyebrows.  Harry experienced a profound sense of recognition – it was as though Dumbledore were sitting opposite them.  Any moment, Harry expected Guru to pass round the sherbet lemons.  Then the old man bowed his head and the moment was gone.

"You want to know whether we are genuine in our desire for melding?"  Harry asked quietly.  Guru made no sign.  Harry took that as a yes.  He shifted position slightly.

"Look," he began earnestly.  "I really shouldn't be telling you this, but the first time it happened, we held back Voldemort.  The most powerful wizard to emerge in the last century, Albus Dumbledore excepted, and we – _we_ – managed to prevent him from escaping from his exile, from breaking through into this reality."  Guru did not react.  Harry paused for effect then plunged straight back into his narrative.

"Voldemort may be here no longer, but he left any number of his minions to carry out his evil plans.  Who knows, one or other of them may be able to raise the Dark Lord once more.  Pettigrew did it virtually on his own.  Merlin knows what fate would lie in store for us if someone else were to succeed!"

Guru seemed totally unimpressed by Harry's rhetoric.  He rose to his feet and dusted off his robes, regarding them impassively.

"We will meet again." He told them calmly.  "I will send word.  You will be contacted very soon."  Harry stared at him aghast.

"But – but you haven't even told us anything about the Syrinx!" he protested.  Guru merely smiled placidly, bowed and began to walk away.  He had only gone a few paces when he turned and looked back intently at Ginny.

"You want to know my name?"  he asked, eyes bright with intelligence.  "You find out.  Yes." He chuckled, turning to walk away again.  "You find out."

"Your name?" Harry frowned in exasperation.  "How can we …"  But he was too late: Guru had disappeared.  Harry ran to the spot he had last occupied, fumbled out his wand and stretched his magical awareness to its limit.  He shook his head.

"I can't even pick up enough residue to tell if he Apparated or not, never mind where to!" He grumbled, reluctantly re-sheathing his wand.  Ginny patted his arm absently, her mind elsewhere.

"His name?" she murmured, frowning in concentration as though trying to recall some long-forgotten information.  "Names.  Naming.  How are people named here?"  But Harry wasn't listening, he was stalking back to the temple entrance in deep chagrin.

"Waste of an afternoon!" his angry words floated back to her over his shoulder.  "Would have been better spending it in the swimming pool – and we haven't even had lunch!"  Suddenly, he halted abruptly, his head thrown backwards in a listening pose, just as he had done earlier at the hotel.

"The wind!" He muttered, frowning.  "They said at the hotel there's hardly ever any breeze at all at this time of year.  It's getting stronger."

Ginny hurried after him, so deep in thought she hadn't noticed his preoccupation.

~oo0oo~

Oliver took a deep breath and checked his watch for the thirtieth time before reaching for the big brass bell hanging by the front door.  It was twenty-five minutes past twelve – she would certainly be up and dressed by now, and the doorman assured him that she hadn't been out of her apartment all day.  He pulled the bell cord, only slightly surprised when the clear tones rang out inside the flat rather than in his ear.  _Resonantia charm, I suppose,_ he said to himself, shifting from foot to foot nervously.

Suddenly Oliver's attention was arrested by the large, ornamental door-knocker, gracefully shaped in a gold material to look like a small lyre or harp.  As he watched, it changed colour and shape, transforming smoothly into the face of a very beautiful dark-haired girl.  She blinked, looking surprised.

"Oh, it's you." She said flatly.  _Not an auspicious start,_ thought Oliver, but he persevered gamely.

"Yes, it's me." he replied firmly, and waited.  The lovely face frowned.

"What do you want?  Do you have a message from Harry Potter?"  Oliver smiled.

"Yes I do, in a manner of speaking."  The face nodded.

"Okay, you better come in then."  The knocker abruptly morphed back to its original shape, and the latch clicked.  Gingerly, Oliver pushed at the door with a blunt index finger. It swung slowly open, and he stepped over the threshold.

Julie Wu's apartment was small but well-designed, with a tiny kitchen, miniscule bathroom and what she told him was a fair-sized double bedroom, although he didn't actually see it – all leading off an irregular-shaped living area, having its own patio doors and balcony.  The walls were painted Vanilla throughout, and the furniture, although colourful with a Persian flavour to the designs, had been chosen for comfort rather than fashion.

"I have little time for interior décor." She told him, reading his thoughts accurately.  "To be honest, this place is really just a crash pad."

_A pity_, Oliver thought as he looked around.  It was an attractive property, far superior in every way to his own apartment, yet it seemed almost unoccupied, unlived-in, as though Julie merely slept there, if that.

"So," she said, sinking into the squashy sofa.  "What's on Harry Potter's mind?"  Oliver smiled, trying not to betray his nerves.

"Well, nothing as such." He confessed, keeping a wary eye on her.  "It's just that before he and Ginny left for Denpasar, he told me to – well, you know, look after you.  So here I am."  _Lame, Oliver,_ he thought, wincing inwardly as he scanned her for signs of an incipient explosion.  She looked very tired, he thought.  Pale, with dark shadows under her eyes.  He wondered if she had been looking forward to a quiet day doing the laundry.  Suddenly, this didn't seem like such a good idea after all.

Julie stared at him in disbelief, opened her mouth to let him have it then surprised both of them with a helpless giggle.  She put a hand over her mouth, eyes brimming with laughter.

"Oh, Oliver!" she exclaimed, shaking her head wonderingly.  "You are just totally hopeless!"  She leaned back into the sofa cushions, laughing harder than ever.  Oliver suppressed the impulse to take offence and stomp out – he didn't know when he next be invited in, if ever.  Instead he grinned vacantly and took the opportunity to sit down next to her on the sofa while she regained some measure of control.

"Okay, okay." He mumbled, half-laughing, half-abashed.  "It was a pathetic excuse, but seriously, Julie, I'd really like to take you out.  Not just on a business level – something friendlier than that.  I don't really know how you rate these things, but I came to see you today to ask you out to lunch."

"Oh?" she raised her eyebrows, her eyes still full of laughter.

"I've booked a table for one o'clock at Luciano's,"  He continued doggedly.  She raised her eyebrows even higher and the laughter died away.

"And I wondered if you'd like to come with me to the Stadium afterwards – watch the Swifts practise, you know.  Our new Chaser's coming along quite well, at last!  It's taken weeks, but he's finally managing to cope with the change of pace.  The Keeper's injured though." he winced.  "A groin strain.  I'm not sure how much he can take today."  He smiled winningly at her, aware that he had just delivered the final carrot: most wizarding folk in Singapore would give their eye-teeth to watch their national team practise.

Julie was no exception it seemed.

She made Oliver a cup of coffee – strong Java blend, black as there was no milk – and took hers into the bedroom to change.  A mere fifteen minutes later, she breezed back into the living room.  Reflexively, Oliver leaped to his feet.

"Hel-_lo!_" He said admiringly before he could stop himself.  Skin-tight grey jeans cut low on the hips, cropped teeshirt in a different shade of grey, short enough to show her navel, grey socks and trainers, set off by a cotton shirt open with rolled sleeves in a glorious neon pink.  A matching pink scrunchie held her luxurious hair in a high ponytail that swung engagingly when she tossed her head.  It swung as she breezed into the kitchen to search for her wand, but a small curve at the corners of her mouth betrayed some degree of pleasure at Oliver's accolade.

~oo0oo~

There was someone at the door, Hermione realised, but she felt so warm and cosy here on the sofa, she really didn't want to get up.  And it was such an effort to manoeuvre her unbalanced body into a vertical position.  It was so much easier just to ignore it and hope it would go away.  At least whoever it was had the decency not to use the doorbell.

"Hey, sleepyhead."  A soft kiss brushed her forehead and her eyes flickered open to focus on a smiling face framed with red hair.  She sighed in contentment and raised a lazy hand to caress his cheek.

"What time is it?"  She asked, expecting a reply of six o'clock, or some other time in the early evening.  His smile widened into a grin.

"Nine pm, give or take five minutes or so." He replied.  Her eyes shot wide open.

"It can't be!" she exclaimed, sitting bolt upright in consternation.  "I only sat down for a few moments.  I swear it was five-thirty the last time I looked!"

"I expect it was."  Ron had already entered the kitchen and was aiming his wand at the kettle.  "Didn't the medics warn you about the fatigue?"

"Of course they did!" she replied crossly, her annoyance largely due to the difficulty she was having in getting to her feet.  "They just left out the part about losing whole evenings."  She stood up, holding onto the sofa to maintain her balance.

"Steady!" said Ron warningly, moving quickly to grab hold of her elbow.  "An alteration in centre of gravity plus potential low blood pressure – please don't do anything hasty, 'Mione!"  She gave him an old-fashioned look as he went to retrieve their tea.

"Since when did _you_ pay any attention to ante-natal classes?"

"Since you claimed to be too tired to go to the library, that's when!" he retorted from the kitchen.  "When Dr. Hermione Granger cries off research, I start to worry."  He came through with two steaming mugs.  Hermione sipped at hers gratefully.

"So," she began, looking up at him.  "If it really is nine o'clock, then you're incredibly late.  Something up at the Ministry?"  Ron made a wry face, which had nothing to do with the taste of the tea, and sat down next to his wife on the sofa.

"You could say that." he began, his face assuming a characteristic sardonic grimace.  He sighed.

"The Muggles have a saying for times like this." He began.  "They say _it never rains but it pours_.  Nonsense, of course – there's plenty of rain that isn't torrential, particularly in England – but after today, I know what they mean."  He glanced sideways towards Hermione who was listening attentively.

"I'm not sure I should be telling you this," he said, glancing uneasily at her gravid belly.  "I don't want to give you any sudden shocks …" Hermione glared.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" she scoffed.  "Come on, Ron – get it off your chest."  

"Okay." He sighed, taking another gulp of tea.  He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, propping his chin in his hands.

"We had a particularly nasty murder on my patch today." He told her soberly.

"A murder!" she exclaimed.  He glanced over to meet her horrified eyes, nodding slowly.

"Not someone I have ever heard of," he reassured her quickly.  "But it was – unpleasant."  Hermione sat up with effort and took Ron's unresisting hand in hers.

"Tell me." she commanded quietly.

"My department was alerted because the victim positively reeked of magic, although – "  Ron paused, scratching his ear.  "He was a muggle."  Hermione's eyes widened.

"A wizard used magic to kill a muggle?  Oh, Ron, that's awful!"  He nodded gravely.

"Whoever committed the crime took a great deal of care." He told her.  "Memory charms were used on the wife and the manservant – unbreakable ones.  There's a chance the wife will have permanent brain damage, but the medics are working with her now.  The manservant was lucid enough, but even with Lee's special equipment, it was clear that his memory had been wiped.  Even my mindscanning abilities came up empty."  Ron was not boasting.  His talents at interrogation, particularly with muggles, were legendary among the _cognoscenti_ for getting swift results with the minimum of distress or damage.  Hermione frowned.

"You didn't tell me Lee was working with you." She accused.  Ron looked surprised.

"So I didn't." he responded and hastened to explain. "Lee's been working on an electronic system that can interface with magic.  It's first rate – it has a number of very positive implications for the way we carry out our business in the future."  He chuckled lightly.

"The powers that be have even coined a name for Lee's unusual expertise: they call him a Techno-Wizard.  At least now he knows he's not alone in his strange talent."

Ron paused again and Hermione patted his hand.

"The victim?" she prompted gently.  Ron nodded.

"Oh, yes." he grimaced.  "I'm afraid there wasn't much left of him to identify."  Hermione winced, but Ron was preoccupied in his own thoughts.

"It's a peculiar thing." He continued.  "Although I said the victim was no one known to us, there _was_ a connection.  It's being investigated now – Lee's running some stuff through the Ministry system.  Apparently the victim had strong links with the Malfoy family.  Lucius, despite his legendary disdain for muggles, seems to have become rather more pragmatic in his old age.  He's created quite a little empire in the muggle business world.  It provides him with a certain amount of protection and, of course, a great deal of muscle should he need it.  However, he still avoids dealing directly with muggles, and there's where our victim came in.  He was a lawyer, a very rich one indeed, and he made most of his money from fronting Lucius's muggle operations.  He lived in Belgravia, in one of the most luxurious houses I've ever set foot in … Hermione, are you okay?"  Hermione's face had turned chalk white.  She swallowed on a dry throat but did not speak.  Ron gripped her hand anxiously.

"Are you alright?"  He repeated.  "Shall I call a medic?"  Hermione shook her head, then abruptly got up from the sofa and began to rummage among the back copies of the Daily Prophet.  After a moment or two, she located what she was looking for and thrust the paper towards Ron, pointing urgently to a paragraph she had ringed in green ink.

"_Wizarding Agent found Dead_." He read out loud, then scanned the rest of the paragraph.  He looked up enquiringly.  She tapped the paper impatiently, sitting down next to him.

"Don't you see?" she demanded insistently.  "Octavia Tenaxis, now this lawyer chappie – don't you think there could be a connection?"  Ron thought about that, then turned to take his wife's hand.

"'Mione, darling," he began.  "Firstly, this lawyer guy – Cavendish, was his name.  Now, he was deeply involved with Lucius Malfoy, knew all the nasty little secrets, all the skeletons in every closet at Malfoy Manor, I should imagine.  And the chances are that he paid the price of that knowledge.  But Tenaxis, the wizarding agent?  We never had anything concrete on her – and besides, her association was with Draco, not Lucius.  Look, I know you worry about that situation – the thing with Ginny was never really properly resolved, and she still can't bear to talk about it – but the fact remains that there's unlikely to be a connection between the two deaths.  And besides, for all we know Tenaxis's death was suicide – the Inquest was adjourned for further evidence.  I guess the final verdict will be death by misadventure."  Hermione scanned the paragraph in the Daily Prophet one more time, then folded it, letting it rest in her lap.

"When you put it that way, it does sound rather farfetched." She conceded reluctantly.  Inwardly, she was wondering whether her pregnancy was really making her illogical and fanciful.  She gritted her teeth, then unexpectedly yawned.

"Ooh!"  She said in surprise.  "You'd think I'd be wide awake after sleeping all that time."  Ron put his hand on her arm.

"Time for bed." He said, his eyes twinkling.  She smiled.

"That's what you said to me last year, and look where it got me!"  she said with mock-acerbity, but nevertheless allowed herself to be drawn into his arms.

"I'm too big and awkward for any sort of gymnastics now." She commented, rather muffled against his chest.  Ron put a finger under her chin and grinned roguishly.  

"Where there's a will, there's a way." He quoted, leaning forward to kiss her gently but thoroughly.

"You'll always be beautiful to me." he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers.  Hermione smiled contentedly and snuggled further into his embrace.  Feeling how relaxed she had become, Ron decided not to tell her about the breakout from Azkaban, the other crisis which had dominated his day.

~oo0oo~

Ginny sipped her drink and gazed dreamily into the perfect pink and gold sunset.  Harry ran his eyes over a week-old copy of The Daily Prophet for anything interesting, until their joint attention was caught by a small procession moving slowly through the hotel to the sound of traditional music and chanting.  This was the daily sunset ceremony, held each evening by the local people to purify the small Hindu temple in the grounds of the hotel.  There they would conduct a short rite of thanksgiving to the spirits of the elements, leaving incense sticks to burn for a while as tribute.

"These people are pretty spiritual – for muggles." remarked a calm voice close to Harry's left ear.  "I'm really impressed by the way they live their religion, and carry out their everyday lives around it.  Did you know that there is a family temple in practically every back garden around here?"  Harry glanced round to see Sirius, grinning hugely, one of his long arms already wrapped around Ginny's shoulders.  Harry gave his Godfather a bear hug that was returned with interest.

"Good to see you, Sirius." He said smiling.  The taller man sat down at their table.

"Sorry I couldn't get to you yesterday." He told them.  "Had a little business to settle in Denpasar, and this morning I learned you'd already left for your meeting.  I didn't waste my time, though.  I've gone over this entire place with every hex detection charm I can think of, and it's clean as a whistle.  However, just to be on the safe side, I've set up alarms on your suite and mine, and a few anti-surveillance charms at other strategic points.  I have to say that whoever booked this place certainly didn't choose it for its defensibility.  It's as full of holes as a sieve.  Pretty lush as muggle hotels go, though – and I have an absolutely gorgeous room: luxury like you never saw!"  Harry grinned.

"Something of a chick magnet, hey Sirius?" he teased.  "Pity we're not properly on holiday."  Sirius chuckled genially, but a shadow seemed to fall over his face.

"Sadly, I'm well past all that." he told them, with mock-chagrin.  Ginny frowned.

"Oh surely not!" she protested.  "You're scarcely even middle-aged yet, and any number of my friends who've met you, or even just seen you, would give anything to take you out for a trial run – no strings attached!"

"Ginny!" Harry admonished, amazed at her boldness.  Ginny blushed, but Sirius laughed out loud, very amused and somewhat flattered.  He took another pull at his drink and sobered a little.

"Well, perhaps not in body then," he told her, the edges of amusement still lingering around his mouth,  "But in spirit?  I've had a hard life, and it's not going to get any easier, that's for sure."  Ginny raised her eyebrows and exchanged a tacit glance with Harry.  The three friends went on to enjoy a jovial dinner together, but on their retiring back to the terrace for coffee, Ginny pleaded excessive fatigue and returned to their room alone.

Harry sat in companionable silence with his Godfather, drinking excellent Java-blend coffee and looking out over the water at the horizon where the first stars were beginning to twinkle.  When Sirius roused sufficiently from his fit of introspection to order two large brandies from a passing waiter, Harry bit back his surprise and simply waited.  When their drinks arrived, Sirius took a healthy slug of his and sighed wearily.  Harry sipped decorously at his own brandy, although, sensing that this was going to be a long night, he had taken the precaution of unobtrusively charming most of the alcohol out of it.

Sirius held up his glass, twirling it gently and watching the way the good brandy clung to the sides.

"We haven't seen much of each other recently." He said at last.  Harry grunted agreement.

"In fact," continued the older man. "We've not been together on a purely social basis since the end of last summer."  He looked up, a sardonic gleam in his eye.

"As I recall," he commented, half-humorously.  "We were both having woman troubles."

"Too right." muttered Harry, sinking a little more of his drink.  Sirius laughed.

"Looks like you've sorted yours, eh?" Harry shrugged, unwilling to go into details.  Sirius nodded shrewdly.

"Like that, is it?  Well, I won't pry."  He was silent for a while.  Harry waited.  The sounds of the Gamelan floated gently across the water.  Sirius twirled his glass, watching the way the alcohol clung to its sides before it slipped slowly back to the bottom.

"You asked me then about Katia Valentin," he said quietly, not looking at his Godson.  "I said I'd tell you sometime over a few beers."  Harry nodded.

"That's right."  He replied, raising his eyebrows.  "Are you ready to tell me now?"  Sirius nodded slowly, still contemplating his drink.  Then he sighed and placed it on the wicker table.  He looked directly at Harry.

"I met her family about two years after I got out of Azkaban." He began.  "I hung around in England for a while, virtually starving, unable to regain my strength.  Finally, I decided to go to ground somewhere no one would consider looking for me.  I ended up in Uinal."  Sirius gave a disgusted sigh.

"At that time, Uinal really had to be described as the back end of beyond.  Primitive just wasn't in it – it was virtually Stone Age.  But at least no one asked questions, no one queried my existence, and most people left me alone.

"The Valentins were an important family in those parts.  Old and established, they held a lot of sway over the rest of the magical community, and I considered it the first stroke of luck I'd had in a number of years when they elected to adopt me.  I was ill, weak and worn down by years of privation and torture.  I told them my story and I guess they had me pegged as a rebel – quite rightly, as it turned out at the time."  Sirius signalled for another instalment of drinks from a hovering waiter.

"It's not a time in my life that I'm in any way proud of, Harry, but please try to understand why things happened as they did."  He took a draft of his replenished drink and sighed gustily.

"I'd been wrongly imprisoned in one of the worst places imaginable for twelve long years.  All my youth had been used up there, my friends believed I had betrayed them, and two of the dearest people in the world had died because of me.  If there was a God, he certainly wasn't on my side.  That was how I viewed it."

"But you stayed around." Harry protested weakly.  "You were there for me while I was still at Hogwarts."  Sirius nodded bleakly.

"While you were still at school, yes." he agreed.  "I tried to make sure you were safe, tried to help you when things looked difficult.  And I cheered along with the rest of them when you helped defeat You-Know-Who.  I really thought life might just change for the better."  Sirius was silent for a while, brooding into his fast disappearing drink.  Harry shifted uncomfortably.  Sirius looked up and smiled wryly.

"Sorry," he said.  "Getting lost in the past again, I guess.  Yes, the Valentins.  They were an interesting bunch.  I knew they sailed close to the edge, of course I did, but they had been good to me, saved my life more or less – and then there was Katia."

"What do you mean 'close to the edge'?" Harry asked suspiciously.  Sirius levelled a deceptively bland expression on his Godson.

"I mean their brand of magic was, shall we say, a mixture, a hybrid." He replied quietly.  "It was basically what we know and understand as our own magic, but there were elements of something – less healthy."  Harry frowned.

"You mean they were Dark Wizards?"  Sirius sighed and shrugged.

"Yes, Harry." he replied resignedly.  "There really is no other way of putting it.  They were Dark Wizards, yet they saved my life and gave me a future at a time when I was starving, on the run and being shunned by everyone I knew."  Harry was struck dumb with disbelief.  Sirius took this as permission to continue.

"I wasn't totally sure of their allegiance then, and I'm really not sure now, but the truth is that I chose to ignore the warnings my own magical antennae were issuing.  And, as you know yourself only too well – if you ignore something, pretty soon it'll just go away.  Well, that's what happened.  And then I started to notice the eldest daughter of the family."  He smiled faintly in remembrance, shaking his head.

"She was beautiful, Harry.  Long, dark hair, perfect skin, unfathomably deep, almost black eyes.  And she was just twenty years old.  She was an expert in local magical customs, widely travelled and seemed to know everyone who was anyone in the area.  It was largely through her training that the Ministry decided it had to have me on the payroll rather than risk that I would look for other, ah, employers."  Harry looked up.

"So they rumbled the situation?  Told you about the Valentins?"  Sirius shook his head.

"Not for a while, Harry." his face was grim.  "Not until Katia and I had been partners for several years, travelled the world together, and finally become lovers.  _Then_ they told me."  Harry winced but remained silent.

"By that time, I'd begun some – preliminary training."  Sirius choked out the words as though they burned him.  "In the Dark Arts.  I was lucky, I guess.  I'd picked up a few things that Katia knew which made me uncomfortable.  I never said anything, but she must have realised because she modified her behaviour to suit me each time it happened.  When the Ministry Undercover guy approached me, I had only just scratched the surface.  I'd done nothing immoral, I'd broken no laws, but it was just a matter of time, and he knew it.  It was then I learned about Cho, Harry."  The younger man nodded.

"Her death was kept relatively quiet – at least in the wizard press.  I guess you wouldn't have heard unless someone told you."  Sirius shook his head.

"No, I already knew she had been killed.  I mean that's when I learned that she had been murdered."

Harry's jaw dropped.

"You mean – the Ministry guy knew her death wasn't an accident?  Even then?"  Sirius nodded.

"Even then.  Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty sure they weren't actively involved in any way – unless you count keeping quiet.  But learning about that made me think.  It made me wonder where I was going, what I was doing.  You were in LA by this time, pursuing a life buried in academia.  I despised you for that, Harry.  I reckoned you were giving up, giving in, lying down on the job.  Once I heard about Cho, I realised exactly what you were doing – and why."  He scratched his head meditatively.

"I took a good, long look at the life I was living, at the one I was about to drift into, and I decided that I wasn't going any further.  Whatever the wizarding world had done to me, I had no right to ally myself to its greatest enemy by way of revenge.  It was then that I fully realised what following Katia's path entailed – collaborating with the darkest wizard history has ever known.  Joining with the evil power that killed my friends, your parents, Harry, and wasted my youth in Azkaban.  I told Katia we were through.  She was furious, I'd never seen her so angry.  She cast a fire charm at me that singed the hair from one side of my head."  Harry stared in sudden comprehension.

"So that's why you cut it!"  Sirius nodded sombrely.

"No choice really." He shrugged.  "It was then I realised, to my everlasting astonishment, that she wasn't just in the relationship to turn me to the Dark Side.  She wanted me for myself.  As her life-partner.  That is why she was so angry at losing me.  She rated my abilities higher than I did.  She wanted us to subsume You-Know-Who himself and take control of the world with his power.  I told her she was raving.  She tried to kill me."

"And?"  Sirius stared at his empty glass for a long time.

"I used a special stunning spell that sneaked past all her carefully constructed wards and defences." He said.  "It knocked her cold.  I took her unconscious body back to her father and struck a deal with him.  Although he didn't show it, he was pretty much impressed that I'd managed to best his daughter.  I'm very sure I couldn't do it again.  Hell, I'm surprised I did it at all!  He still has a lot of respect for me, and he knows that I owe him.  He's not totally with the Dark Side, but neither is he totally against them.  He's playing a very dangerous game, but he says it's the only way he and his kind can survive."

"And Katia?"  Sirius sighed.

"She swore she would never forget the humiliation I meted out on her.  I was the first man she ever slept with, you know.  Privately, I believe she curses herself for having let her defences down with me.  You saw what happened the last time we met."  Harry nodded speechlessly.  Sirius gazed unseeingly out into the night.

"If I ever loved anyone at all, it was her." He said in a half-whisper charged with emotion.  "Every moment with her was exciting, a challenge.  She was feral and untameable, like a wild horse that had never been broken.  Her powers were formidable.  Oh, I should have realised that she was on the road to an alliance with the Dark Side.  In retrospect it was obvious, but I just didn't want to see it.  I loved her that much, you see."  He smiled sadly.

"I spent twelve years fighting off despair in Azkaban.  I can't tell you what it was like in there.  Suffice it to say that Katia wasn't my first sexual partner by a long shot, but she was the first person since my schooldays who – cared."  He paused, staring down at the table.

"If we meet again, one of us isn't going to survive the experience."  His voice was bleak.  There was silence between the two men for a long time while Harry digested this new and surprising information.  Sirius gestured to the waiter once again.  As his drink was refreshed, Harry took an unwary gulp and coughed hoarsely.  As he struggled for control, Sirius smiled enigmatically, withdrew his wand and performed the de-alcoholising charm for him.  Harry smiled apologetically, then frowned and began to shake his head involuntarily.

"Sirius, there's something here that doesn't make sense.  Something that doesn't match up with the man I know and love."  The older man shrugged and gave a wry smile.

"Things change, so do people." He replied lightly.  "Perhaps I'm not the man you met when you were still at school.  Perhaps I never was."  A humourless chuckle escaped Harry.

"I'm sorry, Sirius, but however hard I try, I just can't believe that you would turn to the Dark Side for the love of a bad woman.  Somehow, it just doesn't ring true."

"Don't forget resentment against the establishment for wrongful imprisonment, near-starvation, and total betrayal by everyone except three underage pupils at Hogwarts and a werewolf."

"And Dumbledore."

"Ah, yes.  Dumbledore."  An odd little frown chased its way across Sirius's face.  Harry continued, his puzzlement growing.

"But the whole thing – your false arrest, your suffering in Azkaban, the deaths of my parents and countless others – they were all down to one evil, megalomaniac wizard, viz Voldemort."  He protested.  "You _knew_ that!  So why on earth would you ever consider turning?"  Sirius was silent, gazing at the table.

"There's something else, isn't there?"  Harry demanded.  "Sirius, look at me!  Damn it, Sirius, if it's anything to do with Voldemort, don't I have a right to know?"  The other man winced then took a deep breath, draining his glass in one go.

"What happened, Sirius?"  said Harry more quietly.  The other man finally looked up.

"What happened?" he repeated.  "What happened was that I stumbled upon something that made my blood turn cold.  You don't want to hear this, Harry, it'll turn your world upside town."  Harry shook his head impatiently.

"I don't care, I have to know – everything!"  

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you."  Pausing for breath, Sirius turned burning eyes on his Godson, speaking in low, intense tones that carried to the centre of Harry's being.

"I found irrefutable evidence that Albus Dumbledore, far from being the saviour everyone thinks he is, betrayed us to the Dark Side.  That's what really turned me.  Okay?  Are you satisfied now?"  There was a terrible silence.  Harry was shaking his head in horror.

"No, Sirius." He said.  "No, no, no.  He died fighting Voldemort.  I was there, I _know!_  Don't try to tell me that of all people, Dumbledore went against everything he believed in, everything he spent his life fighting for, I won't believe it, I _can't!_"  Harry stared at his empty glass in near panic, his hands white-knuckled on the tabletop.  

"Easy, easy." murmured Sirius, glancing round and smiling reassuringly at the heads turned in response to Harry's outburst.  He gestured once more to the barman then leaned in towards his Godson, his eyes and face grim.

"Just listen to me, Harry, and make your own judgment." He said in a calmer voice.  "I discovered that Dumbledore had the opportunity to kill You-Know-Who, to destroy him utterly, to rid the universe of his existence.  Instead, he chose to banish him.  To let the world believe in his destruction, but to preserve his existence on another plane, in another place.  Considering all that I had suffered, everything that had been done to me, is it surprising that I lost faith in the face of such treachery?  In my place, what would you have done?"  Sirius sat back as their drinks were delivered.  Harry raised horror-struck eyes.  He was still shaking his head.

"Sirius," he managed eventually.  "You've got to be wrong, you just _have_ to be."  But Sirius was shaking his head.

"Everything you went through," the older man continued.  "All the suffering and the death, the heartbreak and the torture.  Friends and strangers, adults and children, whole families made the ultimate sacrifice to keep you safe, to preserve you until the time came for you to destroy their oppressor.  And when the opportunity finally presented itself, Dumbledore – your chief protector and preserver – betrayed you.  He ensured that ultimately you would fail to rid the world of its worst enemy.  He gave his life to save that power-crazy maniac from destruction."  Sirius dropped his head into his hands.

"And I can't forgive him." his voice was muffled.

~oo0oo~


	9. Unlocking

Unlocking Default Normal Default 2 557 2001-11-02T12:43:00Z 2001-11-02T12:43:00Z 22 9352 53309 444 106 65467 9.2720 4.5 pt 2 2 

Disclaimer:  _This story is written for the purposes of my own amusement and, hopefully, that of my readers, and no profit of any kind is being generated by it or by either of its prequels.  All characters and history belong to J.K. Rowling and to whosoever she has licensed her creations at the present time.  I own the plot and the odd original character, nothing else._

The music Julie Wu chose to play is from "Officium" by the Hilliard Ensemble with Jan Garbarek, the track "Parce Mihi Domine".  Hear it at: www.ecmrecords.com/ecm/recordings/1525.html if you want – I assure you, it's worth it.  

**_Sorcerors' Endgame_** A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Penpusher Sequel to "By the Pricking of My Thumbs" 

**Chapter Eight: Unlocking******

Oliver just couldn't believe his luck.  It was 2.00am and he was in the back seat of a taxi with Julie Wu.  They were both pleasantly intoxicated, more on the occasion than alcohol, laughing companionably at one another's jokes.  Oliver was squiring her home, having spent the majority of the day entertaining her.

It had started rather awkwardly.  After a quiet but delicious lunch, Oliver brought Julie into the International Quidditch Stadium and sat with her while the team warmed up and got into formation.  He was apprehensive that she might be bored once he had to start concentrating on skills training the team, and for the very first time, he winced at the strident tone of his voice under the _Sonorus_ charm, but his worries were groundless.  Julie's face was alight with interest throughout and when Oliver, as had been feared, was obliged to replace the injured Keeper halfway through the session, she cheered loudly enough to raise the roof.  Despite his blushes, he played sufficiently well to retain his dignity, but he had rarely been so rattled on a Quidditch pitch in his life.

The team were very interested to meet Oliver's companion, and the new Chaser – a blonde, blue-eyed Adonis who rejoiced in the name of Jean-Paul – went so far as to demand that she accompany them to dinner.  Oliver, who had been hoping to whisk her away to another stylish restaurant, had to grit his teeth and suffer while the male members of his team regaled her with stories of their past exploits over some very average _Dim Sum_.  Jean-Paul had contrived to seat himself next to her, relegating Oliver to the chair opposite.  Oliver had just decided to risk being lynched by the Swifts fan club, not to mention his other team members, by breaking his new Chaser's jaw, when his attention was suddenly caught.  Julie was laughing at Jean-Paul and shaking her head firmly.

"Non, non!" she was protesting.  "Je suis désole.  I am so sorry, Jean-Paul, but I really can't go with you to this little club, however wonderful the music is.  I never stay up later than midnight, and besides, Oliver promised faithfully that he would take me home, and I just couldn't be responsible for him breaking his word, now could I?"  She smiled lavishly at Oliver, who stared in astonishment, then grinned shakily.  He felt like cheering and wiping his brow at the same time.

Shortly afterwards, they made their farewells and left the Swifts to continue without them.  As they climbed into the taxi, Oliver explained that when on tour he would have to babysit the team throughout, making sure they didn't stay up too late or drink too much, getting them back to their hotel rooms and into bed alone.  However, while they were on hiatus, those particular duties were not so necessary.  After all, everyone has to have a little fun now and then, don't they?

"Well, don't they?" Julie asked, fluttering her eyelashes and gazing limpidly into Oliver's eyes.  He swallowed awkwardly and tugged at his collar.  She collapsed into peals of laughter, then leaned forward and fired some rapid Cantonese at the taxi driver.  Oliver's breathing slowly returned to normal.

"Now," he began. "Are you going to explain the meaning of that little pantomime in the restaurant?  I'd wager you need no more than about five hours sleep per night.  After all, you have to be something of an insomniac in your profession."  She gave a little secret smile.

"Jean-Paul wanted to take me to a Club he likes somewhere in Little India."  She made a face.  "I didn't want to tell him I know it and wouldn't be seen dead in that dive.  And I particularly didn't want to tell him I wouldn't be seen dead anywhere with him."  Oliver slowly let out a breath and scratched his head.

"I must say, I'm rather surprised." He admitted.

"Oh?" she raised her eyebrows.  "That I wanted you to take me home, or that I didn't want to go out with Jean-Paul?"

"Both really." Oliver finished uncomfortably.  Did this taxi have air conditioning?  "I mean, if you listen to the other two chasers, Miriam and Wang-Mu, Jean-Paul is so hot they need extra fire extinguishers.  Not that I'm implying you have the same taste in men as my team members – nor should you, you're very different from them.  Totally different, in fact, it's just that … Ah, heck, I hate it when this happens."  Julie was giggling helplessly.  Oliver gazed at her in despair.  She shook her head, composing her face into some form of normality.

"Oliver," she began gravely, although her eyes still twinkled, "Despite your obvious lack of faith in me, I know what my type is – and it's certainly not blonde, beautiful and brainless.  Okay?"  Oliver opened and shut his mouth soundlessly.  The taxi came to a smooth halt.  Julie smiled.

"We're here." She said and climbed nimbly out of the car, handing some currency to the cab driver.  She made a beeline for her apartment building, glancing back at him over her shoulder.

"Come on." She grinned and started through the door.  Oliver stood gaping for a split second, then leaped after her for fear she would disappear for good.

_This really has to be a dream.  I'm going to wake up soon, I can tell_.  Oliver was in a state of mild euphoria and total disbelief as he followed the girl into the elevator.

"Julie," he began awkwardly.  "Are you sure about this?  I mean, do you think it's a good idea for me to come up?  At this time of night?"

"Don't you want some coffee – to take the edge of the alcohol?" she asked him sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes again.  

"Yes, but – it's 2.00am!" he protested.  "It's scarcely proper for me to be calling on you at this hour!"  She stared at him in disbelief and burst out laughing.

"Proper!"  she exclaimed,  "_Proper!_  Great Merlin, where have you been all your life?  A monastery?  You've lived in Singapore for long enough to know that we generally don't stand on ceremony."  And with that, she took his hand and dragged him firmly out of the elevator and into her apartment through the front door.

Julie was still chuckling as she propelled him towards the kitchen with instructions to make coffee while she checked her Messageglobe.  Absently aiming his wand at the various implements, Oliver was beginning to lose his bottle.  This young woman had led a life full of variety, sophistication and nonconformity, the complete antithesis of his own sheltered, protected and very conventional upbringing.  What in Merlin's name did she think she wanted from him?  And how was he going to justify giving it to her, whatever it was?  With a slight frown creasing his forehead, Oliver carried the two cups of coffee into the living room to find Julie, her tongue between her teeth, scratching a quill over a small piece of parchment at great speed.  She aimed her wand at the Messageglobe, erasing all messages and resetting the device, then she handed the parchment to Oliver.

"I've had a communication from Arthur Weasley." She told him tersely.  "It may be coincidence, but I've long since ceased to believe in such a thing.  Please send your owl as soon as you can and make an appointment to firetalk Potter early tomorrow morning."  Oliver read through the parchment quickly and gasped in horror.  He looked back at Julie who shrugged impassively.

"It was bound to happen sooner or later." She told him.  "The problem with Azkaban isn't just going to go away overnight.  Now this has happened, perhaps the English Ministry of Magic will get up off its backside and do something about it."

"But how?" Oliver countered.  Julie shrugged again.

"That's what they're paid for." She responded, taking her coffee and sipping carefully.  "Now, I don't want to talk shop.  I'm officially off-duty now.  Let's have some music."  Oliver frowned over the parchment as Julie raised her wand.

"You know," he said, casually.  "I've got temporary custody of Sirius Black's owl at present – he sent me a report on the security situation at their hotel.  Perhaps I should use her to take the message."  Julie considered then nodded reluctantly.

"It's possible you'll be unable to contact Potter for some time if, as I suspect, they're out and about the island." She said consideringly.  "I think it's worth the risk of interception to get this information to him quickly.  Okay, go ahead and send it to Black.  I'm willing to bet that his owl isn't yet known around these parts."  Oliver nodded, pocketing the parchment.  

There was a brief silence as Julie crossed over to the sofa, sat down, kicking off her shoes and stretched languorously.  She took a sip of coffee and closed her eyes as the warmth and the fragrance permeated her senses.  Oliver became aware of the music she had chosen: a strange mixture of ancient and modern – male voices in a very resonant building punctuated by the sensual rasp of a tenor saxophone improvising above ancient homophony.  

Before he realised, he had sunk down beside her into the soft leather and was easing the shoes from his weary feet.  Her head drooped gently onto his shoulder, the brush of her hair sending a frisson of electricity through his skin.  Greatly daring, he shifted his right arm, wrapping it round her shoulders and settling her head against his chest.  Somehow he was unsurprised when she lifted her head to look up at him, her lips parting, inches away from his, and he was just as unruffled by his own behaviour when he lowered his mouth to kiss her.  As their lips touched, Julie shifted position until she was sitting in his lap straddling him, her slight weight causing him no discomfort – at first.  Breaking the kiss, she drew her mouth lightly down his throat, prompting a soft groan of pleasure as she found the delicate juncture of neck and shoulder.  His hands traced the curves of her shoulderblades, the knobs of her spine, caressing gently, memorising by touch alone.  Closing her heavy-lidded eyes, Julie moved back to kiss him again, slowly, opening her lips, tongue demanding entry.  Oliver surrendered.  All the higher functions of his brain seemed to have totally shut down leaving him operating on a purely sensual level, which is why he could only stare dumbly when Julie finally moved away, smiled and spoke to him.

"Wha – what did you say?" he managed hazily.  She laughed, her arms and legs still wrapped around him.

"I said, by the feel of things, we really should take this into the bedroom."  She tried a gentle experimental shimmy that left Oliver hissing, and her smiling in a smug, self-satisfied fashion.  She slid gracefully off his lap and held out a hand, angling her head towards the bedroom door.  Oliver had just reached out to grasp her fingers when that part of his brain which had suffered an almost terminal lack of oxygen, due to the relocation of the majority of his blood supply somewhere else entirely, suddenly made itself heard once more.  He paused.

"Uh, Julie," he began hesitantly, "Where are we going?"  She gave him a look that was half-affectionate, half exasperated.

"We are going," she told him with careful enunciation, "To my bedroom.  To get naked and horizontal, in my bed." She added when he failed to respond.

"Why?" he asked.  She stared at him as though he had spoken fluent Urdu.  He shook his head impatiently.

"I mean," he continued hurriedly.  "Don't you think we should wait until we know each other better before taking such a big step?"  Julie continued to stare, then she let out a long breath and sat down again next to him.

"You really are living in another century, d'you know that?"  She was shaking her head wonderingly. "All I'm suggesting is that we have a little good, clean fun together, okay?  This isn't a proposal of marriage, for Merlin's sake!"

"No, it's actually a proposition." Oliver rejoindered, having more or less recovered the use of his logic centres.  "Forgive me, Julie.  You are beautiful, intelligent, sexy and interesting, and I find you incredibly attractive – you must have noticed that!  But I can't and won't treat sex with you like I would a – a simple game of Quidditch!  It isn't just something you do because you need to scratch an itch, it's worth more than that."  Julie frowned, her generous mouth curving in a pout.

"Now let me get this right." She began slowly.  "You're saying that before you'll agree to get into my bed, I've got to give you some kind of – _commitment?_"  Oliver thought about that and nodded.  Julie continued to stare then a high-pitched giggle escaped her.  Oliver frowned in annoyance.  Backing away, she held her hands up, palms towards him in mute apology, struggling to control her laughter.  When she could finally speak again, it was to a very stony-faced Oliver who stared at her in silence.

"Okay, okay." She said.  "I guess in England, that's the way things are.  But face it, Oliver – how much commitment do you think you can ask from a girl in my line of work?  I'm often operating undercover, sometimes posing as a subject's girlfriend or employee, putting my ass on the line (not to mention some other things!) for the sake of a mission – and before you ask, yes I have been known to use both sex and violence for the sake of law and order.  Never killed anyone – yet.  But it could happen any time."  She took his unresponsive hand in hers and laced their fingers together.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's not simply girl-meets-boy, wedding-bells, house-two-cars, two-point-four-children and all the rest of the picture in my world.  What happiness I think I can get, I have to grab with both hands."

"That may be so," replied Oliver with dignity.  "But there's such a thing as timing.  I don't know what kind of guys you're used to dating, but they sure as hell can't be anything like me – and if it's all the same to you, I'd really like you to respect me in the morning!"  His tone was sarcastic, but it obviously jolted her.  He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I just don't like being thought of as a – a piece of ass!" he said finally in gentle exasperation.  She eyed him, the corners of her mouth twitching, and his angry expression relaxed slightly at the absurdity of the situation.

"Somehow I can't see you as just a piece of ass, Oliver."  She allowed herself an amused smile.  He flushed and looked away.

"Okay, okay," he muttered,  "Bad metaphor, I know."  Julie shook her head somewhere between impatience and laughter. 

"I guess this must be a total reversal of roles for you, huh?"  She said.  He nodded.

"Something like that."

"I've just – never met anyone like you before."  She picked up her neglected coffee and stared into the cup.

"Are you serious about the no-sex thing?"  He nodded firmly.  She sighed.

"So what now?"  Oliver sat up, moving to sit on the edge of the sofa.

"We date." He told her.  "We go places together; we learn what we have in common; we go to concerts, theatres, restaurants; we drive around together and discover new things about this beautiful, vibrant country of ours; we rediscover old things that we enjoy doing, and we find out whether they are better done together."  He flushed slightly at the double entendre, but Julie either didn't notice or was too preoccupied to comment.  She pursed her lips, frowning deeply, then regretfully shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Oliver, I just can't do that." She said finally, with a sigh.  "Frankly, I like you a lot more than I thought I would when we first met.  And you're pretty hot stuff, you know, when you relax and let your hair down a little."  Oliver felt his cheeks flame.

"But," she continued.  "Despite all that, and maybe because of it, I just can't suddenly become something I'm not."  She sighed with the difficulty of putting the words together.

"It wouldn't be fair to you." She said finally, looking down at the floor.  There was a silence.  Oliver uncrossed his legs, put his empty coffee cup on the table and stood up.

"Then I'd best be on my way, hadn't I?" he said quietly.  She looked up at him with a strangely sad expression.  

"If you change your mind …"  Oliver shook his head slowly and looked away.

"I can't suddenly become something I'm not either."  He said gently, but his heart was heavy as he closed the front door behind him.

~oo0oo~

Harry walked slowly along the dimly lit pathways towards the apartment block.  Shortly after completing his story, the several brandies Sirius had sunk, on top of the wine with dinner, had started to take their toll.  Harry had searched his pockets, found his room key and half-carried him there, pouring him into bed in a snoring, boneless heap.  At any other time, he would have found it amusing, but tonight he had far too much to think about.

Harry was stone-cold sober, much to his regret.  He longed to be able to blot out the unwelcome knowledge Sirius had imparted, drive it into an alcohol-fashioned oblivion, but deep inside he knew that this was not the solution.  _There has to be some kind of explanation!_ Harry's brain screamed.  He just couldn't accept that his friend and protector, his mentor and teacher, the man who had given his life for him, had in truth been as duplicitous and cowardly as – as Peter Pettigrew.

Slowly, silently opening the door of the suite, he was immediately assailed by the sweet smell of Frangipan flowers.  The staff who turned down the beds each night routinely left a small offering of chocolate on each of the pillows, accompanied by one single Frangipan blossom.  Ginny had discovered that, even if they were put in water, they always wilted by morning, but the fragrance while they were fresh was almost overpowering.

Harry stood by their bed gazing down at Ginny, her face serene and relaxed in sleep.  He was so full of emotion that he thought his heart would burst.  He wanted nothing more than to slide into bed next to her and bury himself in her sweet, soft flesh.  As if divining his thoughts, she stirred, opened her eyes and smiled.

"Hello." She said, her voice husky with sleep.  "You must have had a lot to talk about, you and Sirius."  Harry sighed.

"You could say that." he responded wearily.  She reached out to pat his arm.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"  He stroked her hair lightly, shaking his head.  On impulse, he picked up the flower from his own pillow and tucked it behind her ear.  The sweet fragrance was intoxicating.  Harry inhaled deeply and felt a sharp jolt of desire.  He leaned in to kiss her gently, thoroughly, a slow, leisurely slide of his mouth as their tongues entwined, unhurried, tender.

Oh, he loved it when their coming together was like this.  When it was as if they were trapped in slow-motion, their bodies sliding unhurriedly together with no quick or urgent movement.  When the fires were stoked gradually, little by little until they were poised together on the precipice, teetering on the edge, holding and holding until the final, inevitable plunge.

But Harry had barely discarded his jacket when he felt a strange tingling along the back of his neck that had nothing to do with Ginny's ministrations.  Trailing his lips along her shoulder up to her ear, he breathed almost soundlessly.

"We're not alone."  He felt her stiffen momentarily, then reach smoothly for her wand, her sleepy languor abruptly dissipating.  At the back of his mind, Harry sighed in disappointment.  But he had other concerns right now.  Swiftly, he burrowed in his left sleeve for his wand, then stood quickly, his back to the door.  Ginny quickly shrugged on a dressing gown.

"_Lumos!_" she muttered, throwing the room into light.  The point of her wand weaved around as she scanned the room for anything untoward.

"It's a beautiful night.  I congratulate you on choosing such a paradise for your quest.  I only wish we had more time to enjoy it."  They both swung instantly towards the balcony, noticing for the first time that the door was slightly ajar.  Harry frowned, altering his stance to defensive mode.

"Come into the room where I can see you." He ordered.  A dry chuckle was heard.

"Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin, as the third little pig said to the wolf."  The voice riposted.  "Look, instead of arguing the toss, why don't I simply tell you that I and my twin brother gave you the Marauders Map so you could get to Hogsmeade when you were in your third year at Hogwarts.  And if you really push me, I'll tell you we swiped it from Filch's "Confiscated" drawer the previous year."  Ginny gasped.  Harry sheathed his wand with a relieved smile.

"Fred!" he exclaimed, flinging the balcony door open.  His expression changed immediately, however, on seeing the predicament of his friend and former colleague.  

It was indeed Fred Weasley.  From the expression of suave self-confidence on his face, one could almost have believed he was merely admiring the view, but that would have been before taking stock of the three figures he was holding at wandpoint.  Harry immediately re-drew his wand to give Fred any assistance he might need, but the other man shook his head.

"Those two are muggles, cannon-fodder." He said contemptuously, gesturing to two prone figures, their tense immobility suggesting full bodybind. 

"This one, however, is a different matter."  He nodded towards a third figure, wide awake and glaring.  Harry noticed that despite his apparent insouciance, Fred did not relax his vigilance one iota.

"He's a lackey of Lucius Malfoy." He explained calmly.  "He's on file at the Ministry and, unfortunately for him, I've come across him before.  He's the wizard equivalent of a mindless thug.  He can inflict excruciating personal injury on any number of poor unfortunates – and has done so many times in the past – but he couldn't find his way past a locked door.  Could you, Eddie, my lad?"  The thug scowled menacingly, but Harry noticed his hands were held fast by a magical binding.

"His name, should you be interested – which I doubt – is Eddie Boreas." continued Fred.  "He's a nasty piece of work, no one should miss him much, probably not even his employer.  He swears blind that he knows nothing, and even if he did he wouldn't tell me – which, as we know, is just so much hooey.  I doubt there'll be enough left to bury once we're through with you, my lad."  Fred grinned amiably at the thug.  At that point, the balcony door opened to admit a very impatient Ginny.

"Fred!" she exclaimed. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here?  You're not part of our backup team, surely!"  Fred gazed at his sister expressionlessly.

"Ginny, " he said quietly.  "I suggest you go back into the bedroom for a little while.  I daresay we shan't be long."  The red haired girl stared around the balcony, taking in the tableau before her, then turned on her heel and left, pulling the balcony door to behind her.  She heard Fred erect a Wall of Silence, then Harry turned the lock and she heard no more.

It took about fifteen minutes for the two wizards to get the information they needed.  Harry sat down heavily on the bed and with a relieved sigh.  Fred took out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow.  Ginny looked from one to the other with huge eyes.

"Where are – " she began uncertainly.  "I mean, what did you do with them?"  Fred pocketed his handkerchief.

"I sent the wizard to Malfoy Manor," he said indifferently.  "Express post."  Ginny winced involuntarily.

"The muggles are at present struggling to extricate themselves from the baggage carousel at Denpasar Arrivals."  Fred straightened the collar of his shirt, his face carefully expressionless.  Harry shrugged lightly: Fred had never been exactly conscientious about breaking the rules where muggles were concerned, but this was positively foolhardy.  There was something fey about Fred, something reckless, as though he had come to a point of no return.

"We were right." He said casually.  "Lucius Malfoy sent them.  Eddie, charming fellow that he is, was to put either or both of you out of action – permanently.  Looks like Lucius has a real bee in his bonnet about you two, huh?"

"What are you doing here?"  Ginny spoke into the silence.  Fred smiled, suddenly becoming smooth and urbane once more.

"I was wandering along the pathway by your apartment block, minding my own business, when what should I see but three shadows climbing up the walls.  I stopped for a closer look and realised that they were attempting, with some success I might add, to enter this apartment.  Now, one or two burglars at one time is standard practice: three is overkill.  I was intrigued enough to join them.  Strangely, they objected to my presence and tried to throw me back from whence I came.  I managed to persuade them that a different course of action would be more conducive to their continued well-being.  It was at this point I realised Harry had returned.  I made my presence known in order to preserve you from embarrassment, and here we are."  Ginny set her lips in a firm line.

"Fred, are you in Bali officially, or is this some little jaunt of your own?"  Fred raised an eyebrow.

"Such lack of faith, and in my own sister too."  He smiled ironically.  "Suffice it to say, I considered your backup to be rather lacking in the element of surprise, particularly since your muggle martial arts instructor has now blown his cover.  I have to admit, though, it was a stroke of sheer genius to recruit him."  Ginny nodded.

"So you're playing maverick again." She replied evenly.  "Okay, so what were you doing outside this apartment block?"  Fred shrugged lightly.

"Well, if you insist on the truth," he gave her a chagrined look.  "Earlier in the day, I caught someone tailing Sirius.  He didn't stay for long – frankly, I think he already knew where Sirius was staying, don't ask me how.  Sirius didn't spot him – I don't think I would have done in his place.  However, that got me very suspicious indeed, so I hung about the place while you all had dinner, in animal form of course, then when Ginny took off back to the apartment on her own, I followed her and staked the place out.  Sure enough, a couple of hours later, bingo!"

"Fred, I'm grateful – really I am."  Harry spoke for the first time.  "Particularly as Ginny was on her own and vulnerable.  That was down to my carelessness.  But what made you come here?  Does anyone know where you are?"  Fred's eyes wavered and for the first time he looked uncomfortable.

"Okay," he replied.  "I'll 'fess up.  I'm playing a lone hand.  It's been proved to me time and time again that my nose is reliable when it comes to evildoers, and no overweight paperpusher is going to ground me simply because he doesn't like the cut of my robes!"  Harry burst into unexpected laughter.

"I take it you mean Tantalus Brown?"  Fred nodded, steel in his eyes.

"Too right, Harry." he replied disgustedly.  He sat down suddenly on the bed and laced his fingers.

"I can't explain why I decided to play hookey on this one," he told them.  "Let's just say I caught a whiff of something unpleasant back at the Ministry.  Taking that with an unusually urgent feeling that I should be here, I decided to go with the flow.  Don't worry – you haven't got so much backup that we're going to be tripping over each other.  Mouse's surveillance is first-rate – really discreet.  I'll simply cover the areas he can't reach."  He rose to his feet.

"I'll be on my way now and leave you two to resume, ah, from where you left off!"  He gave them a wicked smile and made for the balcony.

"Fred."  He stopped at Ginny's call and turned back.  She floated over to him and enveloped him in a hard hug.

"Thanks." She whispered.  He patted her shoulder.

"My pleasure." He responded quietly.  Releasing her, he moved over to the balcony. Abruptly his body became translucent, flickered and seemed to collapse in on itself.  A small brown creature turned to regard them briefly with piercingly bright eyes then it turned and flowed out of the apartment, over the balcony until it was lost in the trees.

~oo0oo~

Back in England, at Hogwarts, a House Elf unexpectedly woke up in the small hours of the morning.  He lay listening to the familiar sounds of the old castle, wondering what it was that had woken him, and carefully floated a few tendrils of awareness out into his immediate surroundings to test for danger.  Nothing.  He frowned in puzzlement then found, to his surprise, that he had left his bed and pulled on a pair of coloured socks, all without his conscious volition.  His frown deepened as he extended his awareness into his own body.  Ah!  He was under a Compulsion.  Well, that wasn't exactly a problem.  It would be uncomfortable, but all House Elves were powerful enough to resist most magic of this kind.  He tested the spell – it was only of medium strength, nothing more than an annoyance really.  His frown returned: who would do such a thing, and why?  He began to study the crafting of the spell and his eyes widened.  Curiosity began to get the better of him.  Passively, he allowed the Compulsion to take control of his movements, and found himself being drawn inexorably out of the castle and into the grounds, down past the environs of the Forbidden Forest to the furthest perimeter of the Hogwarts Estate.  There he waited submissively in a small copse for whatever had summoned him.

There is very little that can threaten a House Elf.  They are beings of immense power, but very little imagination, and it is precisely that which draws them into a life of servitude.  Dobby, for it was indeed he, was the single example of a rebel among his kind, the only exception.  So when a dark figure approached the copse, Dobby felt no fear, he was merely curious as to why this person should wish to meet him.

"Don't come any closer," He said as a snapping twig betrayed the other's presence.  "And don't be thinking you can get the better of Dobby."  The figure froze.

"I wouldn't dream of it." It said in a low voice.  "I mean you no harm.  I merely come for information."  Dobby thought about that.

"Dobby recognised the signature behind the casting." He said thoughtfully.  "He is thinking that you could have disguised it."  The dark figure nodded.

"Indeed I could," He replied.  "But I thought it might make you more curious if I did not.  More likely to come out here to meet me.  I know enough about House Elves to realise that a Compulsion, however strong, would only work if you allowed it to."  Dobby nodded.

"What is you wanting with Dobby?" he asked.  The figure paused.

"I need the answers to some questions." It began.  "Questions concerning the time you spent as Lucius Malfoy's servant, when you lived at Malfoy Manor."  Dobby was puzzled: this was ancient history, to be mostly forgotten.  He didn't like remembering anything about that period of his life, he had been foolish to take up with Lucius in the first place.

"Dobby doesn't want to remember." He returned flatly.  The figure looked up.  Although he couldn't see them, Dobby had the impression of very bright, intense eyes skewering him with a powerful gaze.

"Please." The dark figure choked the word out, as though it was foreign.  "I know you've helped me once already.  For the sake of the one who sent you, help me again now.  Tell me about Aurora Malfoy."  Dobby froze then sat down heavily on the grass.  He had forgotten about the baby daughter.

"Dobby doesn't know much," he began in a low voice after a long pause,  "But what he does know, he will try to tell you."  The figure nodded.

"Thank you." It replied with dignity. There was a pause, then the House Elf looked up.

"Dobby was in the house when the baby was born." He said proudly.  "Dobby remembers all the servants singing and smiling.  Even the Master, Lucius, he was happy."

"What about her mother?"

"Oh, the mother was happier than Dobby had ever seen her."  The Elf smiled himself in remembrance.  "Dobby thought the little girl was the most beautiful baby in the world."

"Can you tell me what happened to her?"  Dobby shook his head.

"All Dobby knows is that a few days before she died, the Master was very angry about something – and the Mistress was very frightened.  Dobby overheard the baby's Nurse talking to one of the maids.  She seemed to think something terrible was going to happen."  The Elf hung his head.  "Dobby doesn't know any more."  The dark figure seemed to consider.

"The Nurse.  Was that Nanny Knox?  The same one as nursed Draco when he was small?"  Dobby nodded.

"Dobby thinks so."

"Do you know where I could find her?"  Dobby thought hard.

"Dobby is not sure, but he thinks she grew too old to stay at Malfoy Manor.  Dobby thinks she went to live at a place where nannies go when they get too old."

"A nursing home?"

"Yes, that's where she went!"

"Do you know the name of it?  Think carefully, Dobby.  There are a lot of nursing homes near Malfoy Manor."  Dobby was silent for a while, then he raised his head.

"Dobby thinks the name was 'Lady Catherine'.  He can't remember anything else."

"Lady Catherine …" The Dark Figure seemed to think about that, then he turned back to the small figure in front of him.

"Dobby, my thanks for your assistance, both now and in the past." It said gruffly, then it reached forward a hand holding a light, rustling package.

"Must as I resent taking leaves out of Potter's book," The dark figure continued.  "I expect this will suit."  It thrust the package at Dobby, whirled around and disappeared into the shadows.  Dobby glanced about him to make sure his visitor had genuinely departed, then went quickly back to the castle.  In the privacy of one of the larders, he opened the paper package to reveal a large selection of multicoloured socks, all with the designer tag "Kangol Wizardwear".  A tear dripped down the House Elf's cheek, which he hastily swiped away.

"Dobby hopes you find what you is looking for, Master," he whispered into the night.  "He really does."

~oo0oo~

"Flamel's Stone!" exclaimed Harry poring over a piece of parchment.  Sirius groaned, holding his head.

"Could you lower the volume just a tad?" he pleaded, wincing at the arrows of pain shooting between his temples.  Harry stared at him without sympathy.

"Why on earth did you drink so much?" he demanded irritably, still scanning the message.  "I virtually had drag you into your room.  I should have let you sleep on the floor."  Sirius raised a glass of orange juice to his parched mouth with a visibly shaking hand.  Ginny joined them at the breakfast table looking remarkably fetching in a sleeveless leaf-green linen dress.  She stopped to pet a grey owl perched patiently on small branch.

"Hi Daedalus." She addressed him, smiling.  "Did you bring us a message?"

"He certainly did." responded Harry, jerking a thumb contemptuously at Sirius.  "But bird-brain here is so hung-over that he can't read it!"  The owl rustled its feathers irritably.  Harry looked up.

"Oh, no offence meant, Daedalus."  Sirius put down his glass with a pitiful moan and gazed forlornly at Ginny.

"Oh for goodness sake!" Her mouth twitched somewhere between amusement and irritation.  "Hasn't either of you thought to do something about it?"  Harry looked up, puzzled as Ginny groped in her handbag for her wand, sitting down to conceal her actions from the other breakfasters.  She muttered a few words and aimed carefully at Sirius.  A discreet tendril of white smoke drifted around his head, gradually forming into a ring.  Slowly, it sank down over his face, past his shoulders and on down towards his feet, where it dissipated without trace into the floor.  Sirius gave a heartfelt sigh of relief.

"My everlasting thanks, Ginny." He said in genuine gratitude.  "I've only ever met one other person who could master that charm.  I'm impressed."  She gave him an old-fashioned look.

"Just don't get drunk on duty again, that's all." She told him.  "I might not be so complacent next time."  Sirius gave her a mock salute and pulled an imaginary forelock.

"Idiot!" she playfully punched his arm and accepted the glass of fruit juice he offered her.

"Sirius," Harry said, his expression grim.  "I think you'd better read this."  He passed the parchment to his Godfather and watched his face change as he absorbed its contents.  He looked back at Harry and shrugged.

"I can believe all of it," He said bleakly. "And I'm not surprised."  Ginny was by now scanning the message.  She looked up with a puzzled expression.

"I don't fully understand – what's the significance of this?"  Sirius sighed and retrieved the parchment.

"This, my dear, is a message from your father via Julie Wu via Oliver, that's why it's a little confusing.  It mostly concerns a breakout from Azkaban."  Ginny gasped.

"I thought that couldn't be done!  You were the only one who succeeded."

"Ah, but they were using Dementors when I was there, don't forget.  After the war with You-Know-Who, Dementors were outlawed as Dangerous Beasts."  Sirius sighed.  "You may as well know, Ginny, that the escapee was my old enemy and sometime friend Katia Valentin."

"Oh Merlin!"  Ginny's hand was over her mouth.  "Sirius, Harry's told me all about her – how powerful she is, how ruthless.  Do you think she'll go back to Mexico?"  Sirius shook his head slowly.

"She must have escaped for a purpose." He replied thoughtfully.  "She didn't do it lightly, and it wasn't easy.  Firstly, she engineered the symptoms of a grumbling appendix which was detected at a routine medical, and then caused it to become acute a couple of days later.  The prison authorities had to use a muggle hospital to save her life.  She escaped immediately post-op, with fresh sutured wounds.  Security can't have been as tight as usual, I guess because she should have been unconscious for a good deal longer.  The Auror investigating reckoned that she was awake throughout the op – neutralised the anaesthetic so she could give them the slip immediately after."

"An incredibly brave thing to do, considering they were cutting her open with no pain relief." added Harry.  Ginny drew a hissing breath.

"But surely she'll need medical attention?" she turned to Sirius.  "After an operation of that severity, surely she can't expect just to heal naturally!"

"No," agreed Sirius.  "Under normal circumstances, she'd have intravenous muggle antibiotics and careful observation to ensure she didn't develop any complications.  Now she has to find either a muggle set-up or a wizard healer within her current Apparating distance of the hospital, which can't be great at present."

"Do you think she had assistance?"  This was Harry.  Sirius shook his head.

"To escape?  No.  This was a really desperate gamble, and it paid off." He told them.  "If she'd had any kind of assistance, I'd be willing to bet she wouldn't have weakened herself so badly.  Katia despises all kinds of weakness, mental as well as physical."  His voice was bitter. "Of course, it's likely she knew where to go for help after she'd got away."  Ginny broke the short silence.

"Was there anything else in the message?"

"Anything else?"  Sirius automatically smoothed the crumpled parchment.  "Oh, yes.  Julie states the accepted name of your contact here is Pan Syrinx."  Harry's eyes locked with Ginny's.

"Syrinx?"  He said, puzzled.  "Pan _Syrinx?_  My owl, this thing gets weirder and weirder.  Why didn't he tell us?"  Ginny was shaking her head.

"He didn't tell us anything, Harry."  Her expression was puzzled. "Nothing at all.  Except to find out his name.  What sort of name is that anyhow?  It's scarcely a name as we know it."  She stood up quickly, draining the last of her juice.

"I need to firetalk Hermione urgently." She told the two men.  "I'll meet you for coffee in about an hour."  Grabbing her handbag, she took off at a fast pace in the direction of their apartment before either of her companions could comment.

~oo0oo~

Sirius and Harry were still discussing the implications of Katia's escape from Azkaban when Ginny came bursting in on them in a state of high excitement.

"Hermione and I have been doing a little research into Balinese naming." She explained breathlessly.  "We've discovered something really curious.  No one here has a real 'name' as we understand names to be.  For us, our name is something permanent, concrete, unchanging.  It is a kind of sign, a place marker, something that identifies us, holds us solid, keeps us prisoner, if you like.  The Balinese are named according to their relationships with each other, and they are addressed differently depending on who is speaking to them."

"Well, that's the same in our society, surely."  protested Sirius.  "After all, none of you Weasley kids have never called your dad "Arthur" – and if you'd ever dared to call your mother "Molly", I'm not sure you'd have survived the experience!"  Ginny was nodding impatiently.

"Yes, Sirius, I was coming to that." she continued.  "The difference here is that as children are born and families expand, everybody's names undergo a kind of metamorphosis.  For example, there are four general names for children – Wayan, Made, Nyoman and Ketut.  These are given to the first, second, third and fourth children respectively."

"What happens to the fifth?" queried Harry, not entirely without humour.  Ginny gave him a hard look.

"The fifth is called Wayan.  Yes, and the sixth Made – can we please be serious?  Okay, apart from those general names, they are also given personal names, for example, Bima (male) or Arjuna (female).  Now here is where it starts getting interesting.  The parents then become known as "father of Bima" or "mother of Arjuna", depending on the context."

"So once they've had children, people give up their personal names?  That sounds a bit extreme."  Harry was puzzled.  Ginny was shaking her head.

"No, no, no!" she told him.  "When they are being addressed with regard to their own parents, their personal names are used.  It's rather like changing hats according to the roles you play in life.  You know, whether you're Harry Potter the expert in ancient magical artefacts, Harry Potter the world-famous vanquisher of You-Know-Who, or Harry Potter the – oh, I don't know – the partner of Ginny Weasley.  Only the Balinese actually have a system of naming which is flexible enough to cope with all of these roles."

"Hmmm!"  Harry tapped his bottom lip with his index finger, deep in thought.  Ginny continued.

"The prefixes they use are Men, Kak and Pan.  Men means "mother of", Kak means "grandfather of" and Pan means "father of" – but an alternative word – " She paused for emphasis. "Is Guru."  The two men looked at her quizzically. 

"So you can see where this is leading."  Sirius stared uncomprehendingly.  He glanced at Harry only to receive a shrug.

"How about you tell us anyway." He replied after a pause.  Ginny looked from one to the other and gave a sigh of exasperation.

"You never pay attention, do you?" she said crossly.  "Well, for that you can wait!"  And no amount of teasing or cajoling would make her say another word until they had departed for their second rendez-vous with the elusive Guru.

~oo0oo~

Their meeting place was another temple, but this one was a good deal more modern than Besakih and, to their immense surprise, a religious ceremony was about to begin.  Carefully, respectfully, they took their seats as unobtrusively near the back of the building as they could manage and waited.

Harry quickly became aware that the ceremony consisted largely of a sacred dance performed by local artists to the musical accompaniment of a much larger Gamelan orchestra than they had yet experienced.  The dance was called the Barong and Kris, a well-loved and famous ritual concerning the endless struggle between good and evil, performed very frequently throughout the island.  The dancers were colourfully dressed in red, black and white, together with decorations in gold and silver.  The Barong and the Rangda, the two mythical protagonists, were represented by masks of incredible beauty and complexity, which seemed in no way to interfere with the agility and skill of the dancers beneath them.

The effect was almost hypnotic from the very beginning and Harry watched with great interest, discreetly leafing through his muggle tourist guide to find out more.  From it, he learned that theatre and dance are an integral part of Balinese culture, and inextricably linked with the Balinese religion.  'The commercial dance performances for tourists,' the guide continued, 'do not, of course, have the same kind of religious significance as a dance performed at a genuine temple festival.  For example, if performed in the context of a religious ceremony, the Barong Dance is ritual theatre with a genuine exorcistic background.'  Slowly, Harry looked around him.  So this was a genuine religious ceremony, huh?  What were they doing here?  He glanced to his left and saw that Ginny was gripping the seat of her chair so hard her knuckles were white.  He raised a hand to reassure her, but was suddenly drawn back into the music and the movement, overwhelmed by the ebb and flow of the magical undercurrents.  _What is happening to me? His conscious mind asked.  He remembered nothing more._

Harry was unaware that the ceremony had finished until the people around him started to move out of the temple.  He blinked owlishly through his spectacles, looked around and turned to Sirius who was rubbing his eyes in a bemused fashion.

"What the hell happened here?" he demanded, staring fiercely at Harry.  The younger man shrugged and turned to Ginny, laying a gentle hand on her arm.  She gave him a quick tight smile, but he could feel through the thin fabric of her jacket that she was trembling.

Then a genial face was greeting them and ushering them from their seats, out of the overcharged atmosphere of the temple and into a rambling garden, which was, to all intents and purposes, part of the temple complex.  Ginny sat down on a stone bench, shaking with reaction.  Harry and Sirius stood trying to rationalise something of what they had just experienced.  Guru simply smiled his serene smile and waited while they gathered themselves together.

"Whoa!"  Sirius drew a hand through his hair.  "I feel like I was hit by a Reductor curse.  What _was that?"_

"I apologise if you are – somewhat shaken by your experience." Guru began politely.

"You're not sorry." A voice trembling with suppressed anger interrupted him.  Ginny rose from the bench and approached the priest, her angry eyes flashing.

"You're not sorry at all.  You did this purposely to us."  She drew a shaking breath. "Do you realise what you could have done to us?  How much damage you could have caused?  To subject us to this without warning was not only unfair, it could have been fatal!"

"Ginny!" exclaimed Harry in great surprise, laying a calming hand on her arm. "What in Merlin's name are you talking about?"  Impatiently, she shook him off and advanced on the old priest.

"Well?" she demanded implacably.  Amazingly, Guru dropped his gaze.

"You are right, of course." He responded quietly.  "But tell me – how did you know what was happening to you?"  Ginny smiled ironically.

"I had a long firetalk with a friend earlier today," she began, including Harry and Sirius in her explanations.  "It was the latest of a number of discussions concerning Balinese customs.  Hermione, who is the best person I know at research, dug up a lot of background data before we came here.  I was basically picking her brains.  As a side issue, she told me about the Barong and Kris dance, and its ability to drive out evil from an assembled company if performed in a religious context."

"Hey!" exclaimed Harry suddenly.  "I was reading about that in my guidebook just as the dance started!"  Guru nodded gravely.  Ginny turned back to him.

"You didn't believe us." She said flatly.  "You doubted the validity of our claims.  You knew the potent effect such a ceremony has on magical beings, yet you led us into it knowing that the slightest speck of bad faith would short-circuit our brains.  How could you risk doing that?  And for what?"  Guru swallowed then raised his eyes to hers.

"I am guilty of everything you say," he told her humbly.  "And I have nothing to say in my own defence, except that by trusting you, I risk something so important that my own life is worthless by comparison.  You have to understand that I couldn't afford to take any chances?"  Ginny stared back at him with dislike, then gradually her harsh expression softened into something more thoughtful.

"Perhaps." She replied, nodding slowly.  Harry frowned.

"Would someone mind filling me in on this – please?"  he asked.

"Yeah, I'll second that."  Sirius was looking equally puzzled.  Ginny gave a small smile and turned back to the priest.

"I found out your name." She told him in conversational tones.  He bowed but said nothing.

"Pan Syrinx," She stated calmly.  "Although Guru Syrinx would mean the same thing.  Tell me – is Syrinx your son, or your daughter?"

Harry was impressed.  Ginny's prowess as a sorceress had always been a source of admiration for him, and latterly he was beginning to trust in her abilities to protect herself against physical dangers, but he had never appreciated her deductive reasoning powers until now.  Not even Hermione could have worked through that conundrum with such single-minded determination, and produced a result that not only made sense, it was the only possible answer.

Guru's final defences had been breached.  He gave them a smile, gentle and unforced, and took Ginny's small hands in his.

"You are correct in every detail.  Syrinx is no magical artefact, but my dearly beloved daughter."  He told her.  

He himself was a native Balinese, he continued, but his wife, the mother of Syrinx, was European – educated at Hogwarts, no less.  She came to Bali for a holiday and never returned home.  She was much younger than her husband, but they loved each other dearly until, tragically, she died giving birth to Syrinx.  Her powers had been considerable and Guru believed that her daughter had inherited them.

"I can put this off no longer." He said, a touch of iron entering into his voice.  "I will take you to meet my daughter in the morning."  He looked up at Harry with bright, bright eyes.

"I know why you have come in search of my daughter, and I know how she can help you," he said,  "But you bring pursuit and danger with you.  We have only a little time before the powers of Darkness come to this island, and when they come they will wreak havoc in their wake.  I tremble for my people."  He sagged wearily then looked back at Harry.

"I will meet you at your hotel early." He told them.  "Be prepared to take a little trip.  And you, the one who has the mark of the hound upon him."  Sirius raised his head in surprise to meet the eyes of the old priest.

"Be sure to come with us." He told him.  "I sense danger approaching for you too."  The priest whirled around quickly and was gone.

~oo0oo~

Oliver opened sleep-encrusted eyes to behold the serene, beautiful face of Julie Wu smiling down at him.

"Sheesh!"  he sat up abruptly in shock, then relaxed as he realised that she was standing fully-clothed by his bedside.  He groaned and glanced at the clock – three-thirty.

"Don't you ever knock?" he complained, throwing himself back into the pillows, covering his eyes with his forearm.  Her smile grew wider.

"Surely you're not worried about my presence in your bedroom, Oliver?" she teased.  "You can't think that I could possibly threaten your virtue!"  Oliver grunted, still trying to shake off sleep.

"Julie," he began patiently.  "I haven't recovered from the _last_ time we saw the small hours of the morning together.  I'm seriously short of sleep – and it's not for the right reasons!"  Maintaining the smile, she sat on the side of his bed.

"That is, of course, your decision." She replied lightly.  "Your lack of sleep could be for exactly the right reasons – if you wanted."  Squinting, Oliver focussed on her face.

"Are you usually this unsubtle," he demanded irritably.  "Or is it just me who brings out your bad side?"  She narrowed her eyes.

"It's not often that I have to make the running at all." She replied waspishly.  Oliver looked away, realising that he had got to her.  _That's an achievement in itself_, his brain told him, but instead of swaggering, he merely swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his eyes.  Yawning prodigiously, he stumbled out of the room in search of parchment and ink, oblivious of how low his pyjama bottoms were riding on his hips.  Julie, however, did notice, and cursed herself for a fool.  She sighed: what was it about Oliver that troubled her so?  She was still pondering that one when he returned, now more decently clad in a dressing gown, and carrying not only writing materials but his owl, Frost, who was none too pleased at having been disturbed.  Julie turned her mind to business.

"There are two pieces of news which may interest Harry Potter." She began. "The first is that the former executioner of dangerous beasts, Macnair, has been seen on several occasions fraternising with Lucius Malfoy.  This is not a happy situation, particularly as they have taken no precautions against being recognised together."  Oliver scribbled quickly on the parchment, pausing every now and then to replenish the ink.

"Also," Julie continued.  "Peter Pettigrew has been receiving treatment at a French Wizarding Hospital.  Aurors were too late to catch him, but it appears that he is suffering from Wildfire burns."  A wicked little smile hovered around her lips.  Oliver met her gaze as he added a full stop and laid down his quill.

"Harry was responsible for that, I take it.  Good."  He folded up the parchment and tied it neatly to Frost's leg, taking him over to the balcony to begin his journey.  Closing the window and drawing the drapes, Oliver yawned again, still desperate to catch up on his sleep.

"I could stay."  Julie suggested diffidently.  Oliver stared, then shook his head, smiling.

"Even if it were the right thing to do, which it isn't," he replied gently.  "I'm far too tired to be of any use to you."  Julie looked away.

"I meant just to sleep." She said without meeting his eyes.  "You know, just to be together.  For – company."  Oliver paused mid-yawn in perplexity.  If he didn't know better, he would have sworn that what he could see on her face was – embarrassment.  _Don't mess this one up!_ his brain pleaded with him as he tried to work out what to say in reply.

"Julie, much as I'd love you to stay with me, I just couldn't trust myself." He began gently.  "The situation most likely is that I wouldn't be able to resist making love to you but, due to my current state of total fatigue, I'd probably make a complete hash of it.  Trust me, it would end in tears for both of us."  She stared back unsmiling then nodded once.  Oliver scratched his head.

"Perhaps we could meet up for dinner again – maybe tomorrow?" he ventured, uncertain as to her response.  Her eyes flickered and her mouth turned up ever so slightly at the corners.

"Dinner." she mused.  "Yes, I'd like that."  Then she gave him a real smile.

"My turn to choose." She told him.  "I'll meet you at the Stadium after practice tomorrow.  And wear a tie!"  She took a deep breath and Apparated neatly out of his apartment.

~oo0oo~

The Matron of the Lady Catherine de Bourgh Nursing Home for Retired Witches was much taken with the personable young man who had respectfully requested an interview.  He was smartly dressed in a suit with well-polished shoes and neatly trimmed blonde hair.  His very blue eyes were piercingly cold in his handsome, affable face.

"Yes, we do have a Miss Ivy Knox resident with us.  She has been living here for quite some years since she retired.  She used to be a nanny to one of the oldest wizarding families, you know."  The young man nodded.

"I'm making enquiries on behalf of a friend of mine."  He explained, smiling reassuringly.  "He is trying to trace a lost relative, and I believe that Miss Knox may have information that can assist him.  I agreed to carry out this commission for him since I was already visiting this part of the country."

"A very kind gesture." replied Matron, smiling warmly in approval.  "It seems to be rather out of fashion amongst young people these days to take trouble on others' behalf.  Lamentably, we have very few young visitors here."  The man smiled easily.

"It is neither welcome nor pleasant for any of us to regard the future in its plain unvarnished form." He said in a faintly pontificating tone.  "Generally, the young don't wish to be reminded that they are not immortal."  Matron smiled again, pointedly raising her eyebrows at her companion's obvious youth.  He gave a faint shrug.

"My friend is – a very close one." He said by way of explanation.  The woman nodded understandingly, then her expression became serious.

"I must ask that you treat Miss Knox with the utmost gentleness." She told him.  "I am happy to let you see her, but you must realize that she is very confused.  Oh, she's not violent or anything – a sweeter soul you never met! – but she spends most of her time sleeping, and when she does wake she hardly knows people from one moment to the next."  She leaned forward conspiratorially.

"Between you and me, I don't think she's long for this world."  The woman's broad, practical face was touched with something like regret.  "But still, she's happy in herself, poor dear."  The young man shifted in his chair with slight impatience.

"Is it possible for me to see her now?"  Matron blinked, suddenly brought back to the present.  She nodded quickly.

"Yes, I expect so.  All our residents have finished breakfast.  Miss Knox will no doubt be in the lounge."  She indicated a large ledger open on her desk.

"If you would just sign the Visitors' Book?"  The young man took the proffered quill and signed briskly with a flourish.  Matron turned the book round and smiled.

"Thank you Mr. … Torrence.  I'll take you to see Miss Knox now."

The young man found himself in what was obviously a sitting room.  It was light and bright, the spring sunshine pouring in through large patio door from what looked like a very pleasant garden.  Armchairs were grouped around sturdy coffee tables which held jugs of diluted pumpkin juice together with clean tumblers.  Racks of "Witch Weekly", "Spellcraft" and other wizard periodicals were scattered around the room, along with current issues of the "Daily Prophet".  A Messageglobe stood discreetly in one corner, but its surface was dark.

The room seemed almost empty.  The young man glanced around until he caught sight of a grey head over the back of an armchair positioned as close to the huge windows as was possible.  Quietly, he moved towards the figure, drawing a chair closer and sitting down as he reached her.  Matron leaned towards her.

"Miss Knox." She called quietly.  "Miss Knox, you have a guest.  A Mr. Torrence."  She turned back to the young man.

"She probably won't remember you," she told him.  "But it's nice for her to have a visitor.  Are you alright?"  She noticed a very odd expression on the stranger's face.

"She was my nurse," he replied in a low voice without looking up. "When I was – very small."  Matron had seen this before.  She knew genuine grief and distress when she saw it, and she also knew when her attendance was superfluous.  She melted away with surprising delicacy for a woman of her bulk and considerable presence.

The young man gazed at the figure in the chair.  She seemed so small, so shrivelled and wrinkled.  So unlike the tall, strong figure who had been the mainstay of his difficult childhood.  She was dozing, pleasantly unaware of anything around her.  He hated to disturb that sense of ease: Merlin knew, it was probably all she had left out of life.  Nevertheless, his errand was urgent.  He reached forward to take her thin, wasted hand in his own.

"Miss Knox." He whispered.  "Miss Knox!"  There was no response.

"Nanny Ivy?" He tried.  At the long-forgotten name, now strange on the young man's lips, the old witch stirred.  Her eyelids fluttered open, her mouth trembled and she stared uncomprehendingly at the face before her.

"Nanny Ivy." He said again, this time with genuine affection.  The old woman frowned.

"Don't – know you." She managed in a cracked, worn voice.  The young man smiled.

"Perhaps you don't recognise me." he said gently.  "Don't worry – memories come, and memories go.  Nanny Ivy, I need you to remember some things for me, if you can."  She shook her head slowly.

"Can't remember anything these days.  Don't even recall whether I've had my tea."  She laughed, a dry cackle, then peered curiously at the face before her.  The young man squeezed her hand.

"I want you to think back, Nanny, to the time when you were at Malfoy Manor."  The faded eyes widened slightly, then she went back to gazing out of the window.  The young man waited so long he thought he'd lost her, but after a while she began to speak again, haltingly and in broken sentences, but nevertheless lucid.

"Malfoy Manor.  Now there was an unhappy place!"  _Too right! Thought the young man bitterly.  __Any happiness there was caught and strangled before it could breed!_

"Only stayed because of the children.  Well, because of the boy really.  Couldn't bear him to come back from that school to find nobody wanted him home."  The young man stiffened.  This was new.  Not that he hadn't been aware of the animosity his father had felt towards him, but he'd assumed it was personal.  Apparently not.

"The Master didn't like him there – too many secrets, too many listening ears at that school.  Wanted to send him to Durmstrang – hah!"  The old witch broke off into another bout of cackling.  "If he'd done that, the whole world would have known what he was up to."  The young man bent gently over her.

"You said 'children', Nanny Ivy." He began.  "What about the other one?  The girl?"

"The girl?"  Ivy Knox's face was surprised.  "Ah, I haven't thought about that poor little mite in years.  Such a tragedy when she … never really knew how or why.  The mistress was heartbroken, never recovered.  Such a pretty little thing, blue eyes, golden hair – not a scrap of magic about her, though, not a scrap!"  The young man froze, his cold blue eyes wide with shock.

"No magic?" he breathed.  "Nanny Ivy, what do you mean 'not a scrap of magic'?"  But the old witch was staring intently into his face.

"I know you!" she whispered hoarsely.  "The boy – the little boy!  But you went to school!"  The young man smiled.

"I did indeed, Nanny, but I grew up, and now I've come home!"  He took her hand in his once again, stroking it gently.  His mind was racing: she had seen through the glamour he had cast over himself for protection.  That could mean only one thing – this lady was close to death.  He must have happened on that period of lucidity that sometimes occurs just prior to the final moment.  He watched as the light of intelligence died out of her eyes and she settled back into her armchair, exhausted by the exchange.  He debated whether or not to call the Matron, and decided against it.  Let her go peacefully and with dignity, let the medics practise their skills on someone who wanted to continue living.  Ivy Knox had a date with destiny.  The young man folded her limp hands in her lap and pressed a gentle kiss on the thin, wasted cheek.  

When Matron came to take her into lunch, she was not entirely surprised at the lack of response.  Although Ivy Knox would never be warm again, Matron unthinkingly gathered the curtains blowing in the breeze and closed the patio doors against the draught.

~oo0oo~


	10. Syrinx

Syrinx Default Normal Default 5 1081 2001-11-07T23:14:00Z 2001-11-10T22:15:00Z 2 6109 34826 290 69 42768 9.2720 4.5 pt 2 2 

Disclaimer:  _This story is written for the purposes of my own amusement and, hopefully, that of my readers, and no profit of any kind is being generated by it or by either of its prequels.  All characters and history belong to J.K. Rowling and to whosoever she has licensed her creations at the present time.  I own the plot and the odd original character, nothing else._

Thanks to all who reviewed, including Dreamgirl, nikalee, Deanna and, of course, Iggly Wiggly without whom no review page would be complete!  I'm really motoring now – it won't be long before the final denouement, I promise!

**_Sorcerors' Endgame_** A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Penpusher Sequel to "By the Pricking of My Thumbs" 

**Chapter Nine: Syrinx******

"My Owl!"  Ginny couldn't suppress her horrified exclamation.  Guru merely smiled blandly in understanding.  Ginny blushed furiously, mortified at having betrayed a reaction, and even more embarrassed at having it so readily recognized and forgiven.

"I'm sorry.  I guess …" she trailed off, then gritted her teeth and went for it.

"I didn't mean to be such a snob," she said doggedly.  "But really – well, someone of your – stature and status shouldn't have to live in such squalor, on the edge of a rubbish dump!"

Ginny spoke the truth.  Guru's house was in an appallingly poverty-stricken area of downtown Denpasar.  It was more or less a shanty town, perched on the edge of a mountain of rubbish that was a direct result of the modernisation of the city and the rapid construction of the huge, muggle hotels.  The house itself could only be described as a hovel – poorly constructed from cast-off pieces of wood and tile, with a ragged curtain for a door, this structure looked as if one good puff of wind would see to it for good.  Harry raised his head and sniffed.  Beneath the overlaying stench of decay and debris, something was puzzling him, teasing his senses.  He turned his face into the sudden strong breeze.

The priest was still smiling affably, as if Ginny had not just dealt him a mortal insult, but he could see far enough into her heart to realise that her disgust was not for him, but rather for an unequal political and economic system which forced some people to live in this way, while others relaxed in luxury.  He patted her arm.

"Come." He said, turning towards the door.  Ginny, after a moment's hesitation, obeyed the summons, followed quickly by Sirius.  Harry, however, remained staring into the wind, a strange look of concentration on his face.  Sirius laid a hand on his arm.

"Harry?" he queried.  The younger man started at the touch and shivered.

"What's up?" Sirius asked lightly, rather disturbed at his reaction.  Harry shook his head.

"The wind." He muttered thickly.  "It's getting stronger.  It's me, I'm sure of it."

"Harry, what has the wind got to do with you?"  Sirius was puzzled.  Harry shook his head.

"I don't know.  I just don't know, but there's something …" he trailed off, gazing at the horizon.  Sirius grabbed his elbow.

"Well, whatever it is will have to wait." He told him firmly.  "We're about to finally get some information out of this elusive priest of yours, so you'd better be around to hear it, okay?"  Harry nodded reluctantly but allowed himself to be guided into the house.

Once inside, Harry could see how Guru could make a reasonable life here.  From the outside, the structure was as flimsy as a house of cards.  However, from the inside the walls were solid, it was light, bright and dry, and even nicely, though plainly decorated.  They walked through a living room into a kitchen, which was clean and well-appointed, even if it had no mod cons – such as running water.

"This community has a well."  Guru answered their unspoken question.  "We are very fortunate indeed to have clean water, so it would be very wrong of us to use our magical abilities to save us from a little effort."  On this note, he led them outside into what seemed to be a small courtyard garden.

The sunshine was blinding after the semi-darkness of the house.  Blinking stupidly, Harry squinted, trying to focus on a figure sitting at the very back of the garden.  It was a woman, young and graceful with long, long hair so pale it was almost white.  She was sitting on a wooden bench under a pagoda of flowering Bougainvillea.  His eyesight beginning to compensate, Harry approached, looking into the woman's face, trying to feel her presence.  It was then he realised with a slight shock that her eyes were not formed as normal human eyes with coloured iris and black pupil.  Instead their surface was plain and unbroken, the colour of silver: the blank eyes of a statue.  She was completely blind.  He heard a soft gasp behind him and turned to see Ginny with her hands over her mouth.

"The woman in my dream!" she whispered, suddenly transported back to her vision in the hotel reception.  The woman smiled and held out a hand.  Ginny approached diffidently, then more confidently as the other girl grasped her hand and pulled her gently towards the bench.

"I felt your presence as soon as you arrived on the island." She told her.  "If we'd had a little longer to make contact, we could have dispensed with all the distrust and misunderstandings of the past two days."  She turned to aim her blind gaze unerringly at Harry.

"The Bringer of Chaos." She said, holding out her other hand to soften her words.  "The Old Powers know you are here, they seek for you ever more strongly each day."

"The wind?" asked Harry quietly.  The girl nodded.

"The Spirits of the Air have been despatched because your presence disturbs the balance." She told him.  "I can help you, but ultimately you must set the balance right yourself.  You and your eternal partner."  She turned to smile at Ginny.  There was a short pause as Sirius stepped forward, scratching his head in perplexity.

"I'm sorry to drag everything back to normality," he said in a pained voice.  "But would someone mind telling me what's going on?"

He never got an answer to his question, because at that moment, something small and black landed at his feet.  He glanced downwards, taking in a small black canister that was lazily emitting grey smoke and his eyes widened.  He looked up wildly.

"GET IN THE HOUSE, EVERYONE, NOW!"  He roared, snatching up the black object and hurling it as far as he could.  It exploded in mid-air, releasing clouds of yellow dust.  Sirius drew his wand.

"_Ventosa!_" he shouted, whipping the point around in a circle.  A small vortex sprang up, gathering the poisonous-looking dust and forcing it into a smaller and smaller space.  Sirius didn't wait around for it to finish, he was already turning, running, pushing the others into the house.  As they crowded into the kitchen, he slammed the door.

"Nobody go out there!" He ordered.  "Harry, help me seal the doors and windows.  Ginny, get Guru and the girl into the living room, find blankets, rugs, anything to protect yourselves."

"What is it?" asked Ginny, as she obeyed.

"Stunspore." replied Sirius.  "Horrible stuff – sears on contact.  Also contains an immobilising spell."

"Nice." muttered Harry, pointing his wand at the front door.  "Paralyses you then burns you to death.  Just peachy!"

Having done everything possible to reinforce the house, the five wizards huddled together in the living room.

"What now?" asked Ginny.

"We wait." responded Sirius, who seemed to have taken charge quite naturally.  "The Stunspore will gradually burn through the roof, but we've taken care of that by laying some Reinforcement Charms.  I'm guessing here, but I suspect they were counting on their first attack taking us out fairly quickly.  Whoever they are, they're now going to have to lay siege to this place – and that won't be easy."

"How can we fight back?"  Harry was peering carefully out of a window and flinched away reflexively as a black canister glanced off the frame.  Sirius shook his head.

"I'm working on that one," he answered. "But so far, I'm open to all suggestions."  Guru was shaking his head.

"I delayed too long." He mourned.  "I should have trusted you.  All my instincts said to do so, but I have been wrong before …"  The girl put a gentle hand on his arm.

"Father, you did what you thought was right," She told him. "And all _will_ be well, I promise you."  Guru looked into her opaque, silvery eyes and smiled.

Suddenly, every head turned in the direction of the front door.  A massive blow jarred the Solidity Charms protecting the entrance followed by a bloodcurdling scream which tailed off theatrically into the distance.  There was silence, followed by footsteps and a polite knock.  Harry and Sirius looked at each other, then, followed by Ginny, they warily approached the door.  Harry nodded to the others to cover him then pointed his wand.

"_Finite incantatem._" He declaimed.  The curtain was pulled aside and a wand thrown onto the floor with a clatter.

"Take care." A lazy sardonic drawl floated into the room.  "You only just missed my nose!"  Fred Weasley strolled into the house leaning casually against the doorframe.

"Looks like you really needed a little unofficial backup this time." He said, eyeing the chaos.

"Thank goodness you were here!" exclaimed Harry, grabbing Fred by the hand.  "But how in Merlin's name did you know we would need you?"  Fred shrugged then tapped the side of his nose with his index finger.

"Told you, Harry, I have a nose for the ungodly like you wouldn't believe."

"This is true." said a new voice, calmly and with conviction.  "You have always been prescient, you just called it by another name."  Fred lifted his head sharply and, as Ginny stood aside, took his first glimpse of the young blind girl.

"Flamel's Stone!" He muttered as she approached him.  Ginny was chuckling.

"A Weasley with Divination talent?" she said.  "That'll really make the record books.  Trelawney couldn't get a squeak out of any of us – not even Bill."  But Fred wasn't listening.

"You – " he swallowed on a suddenly dry throat.  "You're the Syrinx.  That's your name.  You're – a Seer, a real one.  Gods, I can see – everything about you.  I _know_ you, I've always known you, all my life."  The girl smiled.

"This too is true." She told him, reaching for his hand.  "And I know you also.  Your powers are very strong, but you must learn to use them."  Fred gazed into her blind eyes, speechless with wonder.  Then suddenly he stiffened.

"But you're in danger here." He said.  "The Dark Side must have been searching for someone like you for years!  And now our presence here …" He trailed off.

"Has made them aware of her existence."  Guru finished for him.  "While she was only a theoretical possibility, she was safe.  I have spent my life protecting her from the outside world, but now I can no longer do it alone."

"And that's why I was drawn here." Fred continued, his eyes growing wider and wider as he stared at the white-haired girl. "To protect you. To keep you from the Dark Side."  She nodded, and her face broke into a joyous smile.

"I have waited for you all my life."  She turned to the others, making no attempt to withdraw her hand from Fred's almost reverent grasp.

"I am one of a handful of true Seers throughout history." She told them without conceit or self-importance.  "My eyes are blind – yet I have sight.  My powers are closely aligned with the Old Magic of the Island.  I do not know for sure, but I suspect that if I were to leave Bali, I would be bereft indeed."  She turned to Harry and Ginny.

"I know your greatest desire, and also your greatest fear.  I am the key to the fulfilment of both, but we must move quickly."  She looked at her father.  He bowed slightly.

"We must go to the ancient place." He told them.  "The place of the Old Magic of Bali."

"The Oldest Temple?  But we've already been there!"  Ginny interrupted.  Guru laughed.

"My dear, there are places on Bali far older than that." he told her.  "Places that go back to the Old Religion before the Hindus came.  But the Oldest Place is on the other side of the island.  In the Bali Barat National Park."

"I've heard of that."  Sirius put in.  "It's a nature reserve, isn't it?  Has a lot of mangrove swamp and other wet stuff about it.  Sounds like a Sunday stroll!"

"It won't be easy."  Guru was speaking again.  "We can Apparate for some of the way, but the Place has ancient magic woven around it that makes Apparating into its environs impossible."

"Like Hogwarts?" suggested Ginny.  Guru nodded and took up the narrative.

"We will have at least a day's walking ahead of us once we arrive," He told them.  "So we must begin our journey at dawn tomorrow.  And whatever we need, we will have to carry with us.  We can use no magic near the Oldest Place."

"Why not?" asked Sirius, fingering his wand reflexively.  Guru merely shook his head.

"The use of even the simplest spell can have grave consequences."  Syrinx said urgently.  "No magic is ever cast lightly here, rather only when there is no other choice."

~oo0oo~

"Well!" exclaimed Harry as he flung himself on their bed, kicking his shoes off.  "What do you make of that?"  Ginny sat down on the edge of the bed rather more decorously.

"The meaning of the Syrinx, the Stunspore attack, Syrinx herself, or the strange understanding she seems to have with my elder brother?  Not to mention, of course, the horrific demonstration of poverty within a rich man's playground?"  Harry sat up.

"All of the above," he replied grinning.  "But particularly Syrinx and her extraordinary rapport with Fred."  Ginny shrugged.

"It's all rather beyond me, I'm afraid," she replied.  "But Fred's always been one to go with hunches.  Maybe he does have a talent for Divination after all."  Harry glanced at the small glass globe on his bedside table and whistled.

"Hello." He said.  "We have mail."  He tapped the Messageglobe with his wand to hear a familiar voice swearing fluently.  Harry grinned from ear to ear as the profanity gradually changed into intelligible speech.

"My, my, mouse!" he murmured in amusement.  "I never realised you were fluent in so many different languages!"

"Sometimes, Harry, I sure as hell glad I don't have to deal with this stuff day in, day out like you do." Was the first complete sentence.  "Ah, Sheesh!  At least you gonna get the sound, even if the picture ain't co-operatin'."  The gist of Mouse's message was that someone seemed to be recruiting a small army amongst the ungodly on the island.  The grapevine was alive with possibility, every badhat in the place was being scooped up for one purpose or another.  Mouse himself had been approached on a number of occasions, simply on the strength of his looks.  He wasn't sure whether to be flattered or insulted.

Harry pursed his lips in thought and waved his wand to erase the message.  Mouse's information, however worrying, was not exactly surprising, but the next message really made him sit up.

A revolving golden cylinder sprang up from the surface of the globe, rapidly forming itself into an image of a very worried-looking Arthur Weasley.

"Harry, my boy." He began without preamble.  "I know I'm breaching security here, but frankly I don't think it matters if this message is intercepted, just so long as it gets to you in time.  There is a considerable amount of disturbance within the Malfoy empire here in England.  Lucius Malfoy is livid that some plan or other of his involving you failed to work.  He's making preparations as we speak to come to Bali to deal with you himself.  I'm trying to get some backup and permission to come to your aid, but I'm being blocked, damnit!  Also Fred has disappeared – just when I need him most.  But I suppose it's always possible that you know more about that than I do." A ghost of a smile quirked Arthur's lips, but couldn't wipe away the anxiety in his eyes.

"Be careful, Harry." he said finally, and signed off.  Harry stoked his bottom lip thoughtfully then rolled off the bed.

"Where are you going?" asked Ginny, who had started to undress preparatory to retiring for the night.  Harry paused in the doorway and turned back.

"I'm going to owl Guru.  See if he's got any ideas about how to deal with Mouse's situation in Denpasar, and whether he knows anything about Lucius." He told her.  She nodded, kicking off her shoes and reaching for the zip of her dress.  When he didn't move, she turned round.

"Well?" she asked. "Aren't you going?"  Harry smiled.

"Just enjoying the view." He said, making a reluctant departure.

~oo0oo~

"Mmm, Ron!  Oh, that feels good – that's fantastic!  Don't stop.  A-a-a-a-ah yes!"  Ron tried to control himself but failed miserably.  Hermione frowned suddenly.

"Are you laughing at me?"  Pressing his lips together firmly, Ron shook his head, the picture of wide-eyed innocence.  She skewered him with a glare that would flay skin and he exploded into uncontrollable hysterics.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione."  He said, when he could speak again.  "It's just that in all the time we've known each other, I've never managed to inspire such passionate abandonment in you before.  And all I'm doing is giving you a foot massage!"  Hermione pouted, but in truth Ron's hands were working magic on her sore, swollen feet and the last thing she wanted was for him to stop.

"Ah, my poor 'Mione!" Ron sympathised, leaning over to plant a kiss on her cheek.  "Only a few more weeks, and you'll be dancing on air."

"I doubt it." She returned waspishly.  "You obviously haven't been reading the chapters on Labour and Childbirth."  Ron cringed.  As far as he was concerned, the information on early pregnancy was stomach-churning enough.  He hadn't dared risk losing his lunch by reading any further.  He kissed her again, this time on the lips, hoping to distract her.  A quiet sound from the clock on the mantelshelf made him pause before he became too involved.  He sighed.

"Time for me to go."

"Oh, must you?"  She wound her arms around his waist and pulled him back into her arms.  Briefly, Ron considered going AWOL, then decided that a responsible father would do no such thing, and he was getting into practice.  Regretfully, he pulled away and went in search of his cloak.

"Don't stay up too late." He told her, kissing the top of her head.  "I'll see you in the morning."  Hermione heard the slam of the balcony door and the hiss of his Firebolt Mark Two as he made his exit.

Hermione leafed through the Daily Prophet in a desultory fashion.  She fixed on an article about Domestic Witches, or rather witches who go into service with the old, established families.  Hermione snorted derisively: who said the class system was dead?  She read, only half paying attention, to accounts from second-rate witches who only just managed a couple of OWLs about how a life in service offered a stability they wouldn't otherwise have had once they left school.  "At least I get to live with wizards." said one.  "What with all this interaction with muggles these days, it's hard to find a working environment where you can be with your own kind." 

Hermione flung down the magazine in annoyance.  That was just the sort of attitude that fuelled people like Lucius Malfoy in their hatred for all things muggle.  Unable to leave the article half-read, Hermione picked it up once more, focussing on an entirely different account.  This lady had been Nanny to three generations of one pureblood family, she read.  Her story was quite illuminating.  The lady concerned was obviously from a completely different ethos to Hermione herself, but her views had a certain quiet dignity.

"I was never brought up to be independent," she said.  "Although I had to be at times.  Those children needed me – their parents were too busy with other concerns to look after their children properly.  Without me, and others like me, those little ones would have grown up without love or affection.  Of course, there were some who went bad anyway, but that sort of thing happens in the best regulated families."

Hermione read to the end of the page, then discovered a small paragraph in italics.  It told the reader that the interviewee, a Miss Ivy Knox, had died very recently at the private nursing sanatorium, which had been her home for the past five years.  She left no relatives as she had spent her working life as Nanny to the Malfoy Family.

The _Malfoy_ Family?  Hermione felt a tiny trickle of uncertainty make its way down her back.  This was the third death connected with the Malfoys in a matter of weeks.  _Oh, for goodness sake!_  She completely lost patience with herself._  Ron made you get this one into perspective – it's a coincidence, and besides there's no mention of foul play with regard to the Nanny._  With an air of drawing a line under that little digression, Hermione folded the Daily Prophet and tucked it into the newspaper rack before picking up "Full Bodybind" – a romantic thriller written by one of her clients.  Hermione had recently developed a taste for romantic novels.  She put it down to her pregnancy and hoped she would return to normality after the birth.

The doorbell played something by Mortlock Magus.  Hermione winced.  She wished Ron wouldn't keep using his current favourite top ten hit as a door chime.  She sighed, heaved herself off the sofa and went to answer.  It would probably be George, he had said he would call round sometime this week.

It wasn't George.  It wasn't anyone.  Hermione slammed the door in annoyance at being dragged away from the sofa, trying to ignore a small spark of insecurity at the back of her mind.  _I'm just getting jumpy because of the baby_.  She told herself.  This was quite true: various whole branches of magic, such as Transfiguration and Apparation, were completely out of the question until the baby was born.  And the way she was feeling at present, she'd be hard pressed to put up any kind of a magical fight if attacked.  She lumbered back into the living room to her beloved sofa and froze: it was already occupied.

"Sit down, Granger." said a cold voice.  "I don't want to have to deal with a miscarriage on top of everything else I have on my plate at present." 

Fear gripped Hermione by the throat.  She could hardly breathe let alone speak.  She caught the glint of a wand being pointed at her and swallowed bile.

"Sit down.  Sit, for goodness sake, you're making me nervous!"  Hardly knowing what she was doing Hermione sank down on the sofa next to a dark, hooded figure dressed completely in black.

"That's better." said the voice.  "Now I can get a little more comfortable."  Without relaxing his vigilance with regard to the gently circling wand for one moment, the figure threw back the hood of his cloak to reveal pale blond hair and grey eyes the consistency and temperature of ice.  Hermione frowned, a faint trickle of recognition working its way down her back, then she swallowed hard.

"Malfoy?" she managed to choke out.  "Draco Malfoy?"  The man smiled sardonically.

"Right first time, Dr. Granger – if I may still call you that.  Or do you prefer Mrs. Weasley?"  Hermione shrugged, indicating that as he had the wand, he could call her whatever he wished.  Draco quirked the corner of his mouth but declined to comment.

"What – what are you doing here?"  Hermione was beginning to calm down.  She was still alive, so killing her wasn't on the cards – yet.  That gave her time.  Time to find out what he wanted.  Draco pretended to consider.

"Yes, that's the question, isn't it?" he replied, still keeping the point of his wand weaving between them.  "Why would Draco Malfoy, alone and on the run, seek sanctuary with one of his longest-standing enemies, a mudblood to boot?"  Hermione stared.

"_Are_ you on the run?"  Draco made a strange noise, somewhere between disgust and laughter.

"Do you mean that husband of yours hasn't told you?" he demanded.  "Oh, I supposed he thought the mere mention of my despised name in these hallowed halls would damage his incipient offspring _in utero_, eh?"  Hermione had no answer.

"Yes, yes, I'm on the run."  Draco leaned back on the sofa.  "I'm on the run from my father, from the Ministry, from every right-thinking person in this benighted country, and also from the muggle police, if the grapevine is to be believed."  He turned his head to look her directly in the eyes.

"When my clever little plot to ensnare the Famous Harry Potter turned pear-shaped, I became a marked man." He told her.  "I'm now desperate enough to come to you for help.  You're my last resort."  Hermione could hardly believe what she was hearing.

"Me?" she squeaked.  "Help you?"  Draco laughed mirthlessly.

"Yes." he replied.  "Ridiculous, isn't it?  Just goes to show how low a body can sink."  Hermione gathered her wits about her and engaged her brain.

"Malfoy," she began.  "You have just broken into my home and you are holding me at wandpoint.  You are a historical enemy allied to something I and mine have spent our entire lives fighting.  You recently tried to ensorcell a dear friend and relative with one of the most revolting Compulsion enchantments it has ever been my misfortune to encounter.  You have alternately insulted and attacked both Ron and me at every possible opportunity.  And now I discover from the Daily Prophet that you are involved in, if not responsible for, three deaths that have occurred over the past couple of weeks.  You are a criminal, a Dark Wizard, and a murderer.  I think that brief résumé of your qualities should remind you exactly why I would not consider helping you across the road if you had two broken legs!"  Hermione had worked herself into a considerable temper, but Draco had only tuned in to one part of her oration.

"Three deaths in the past couple of weeks?" he repeated.  "My, my – I _have_ been a busy boy, haven't I!  Sorry, would you mind refreshing my memory as to the identities of the people I'm supposed to have murdered?  I'm afraid I haven't had a great deal of time to study the newspapers recently."  Hermione fixed him with a steely glare.

"Octavia Tenaxis, Theatrical Agent." She told him flatly.  "Theodore Cavendish, Solicitor, and Ivy Knox, Nanny (retired).  I can give you the Daily Prophet reports if you want."  Draco ignored that, stroking his lower lip thoughtfully.

"So Octavia got her just deserts after all." He said in a musing tone. "A pity.  Still, she was on a knife-edge throughout.  As for Cavendish, it was only a matter of time.  After all, muggles aren't worth much around Malfoy Manor."

"Shut up!" yelled Hermione, now thoroughly furious.  Draco whirled on her.

"No, _you shut up for once!" His mask of indifference had cracked and she could see deep anger in his eyes along with something else less easy to identify._

"Octavia Tenaxis betrayed me to my father." He told her forcefully.  "I went to her for help.  She stunned me and tried to sedate me.  I had suspected she might try something so I hung some wards before I slept.  Even so it was touch and go.  Frankly, I could see she was a liability to my father – I knew he wouldn't spare her, but there wasn't a thing I could do about it once she'd decided which way she was going to jump."  His tone was heated, but Hermione thought she could detect a tinge of regret behind it.

"Cavendish," he began in an entirely different voice. "Was a venal, cruel, sadistic and decidedly unpleasant man.  A muggle too, to add insult to injury."  Hermione stiffened.  Draco ignored her.

"I can only guess what happened to him," he continued.  "I went to him for information, but we were interrupted before I could finish.  I had to leave him still bound to his chair.  The only people he knew who could free him were my father and Peter Pettigrew."  He shrugged.  "Q.E.D.  Besides," Draco pushed a strand of pale hair away from his face.  "He was a 21 carat bastard who deserved everything he got.  And I mean _everything."  His face was hard._

"Granger, I don't care how he died," he said in a low, intense voice.  "As long as it was slow and painful.  As far as I am concerned, muggle or wizard, the world is better off without vermin like him."  

Hermione's jaw hung slackly.  She positively gaped at Draco, who was composedly removing his black cloak and hanging it over the back of a chair.  She frowned at its sodden state.

"Is it raining?" she asked inconsequentially.  He turned, scowling.

"No," he retorted, "I fell into the Thames.  For Merlin's sake!"  He threw up his hands in exasperation.

"What more do I have to say to convince you that I'm seriously in need of help?"  he turned to her, the lamplight revealing lines of strain and fatigue around his eyes and mouth.  "Look, I know Weasley has gone out on a night shift – I planned this little escapade round his schedule – and I also know that I will never get any co-operation out of you by force.  Regrettably Dumbledore was correct to put you in Gryffindor, despite your intelligence – you really are as brave as a lion."  Hermione, to her utter chagrin, found her cheeks warming at this statement.  Draco didn't seem to notice.  Instead, he turned his wand hilt outermost and tossed it to her.  Taken by surprise she caught it then looked back at him dumbly.  He held both hands out in front of him, palms open, defenceless.  He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Your move, Granger." He said quietly.  Hermione looked at him for a long moment, then she sighed, lowered the wand and tucked it into her sleeve.

"You'd better sit down," She told him.  "And prepare to answer some hard questions.  You've put me in a very difficult situation here, Malfoy.  By rights I should just call the Aurors, but I'm betting you have some kind of contingency plans for just such a scenario.  Seeing as I don't know what they involve, and being in a delicate physical situation right now, I really don't want to take chances."  Draco stared at her irritably.

"Granger, you never could accept anything without dotting every 'i' and crossing every 't', could you?" He sighed wearily.  "Look, please, if you want detailed explanations, get me something to eat first, will you?  I'm practically transparent with hunger.  I've had precious little more than the odd cup of coffee for the past week.  My stomach feels like my throat's cut."

Hermione watched while Draco scarfed down a family-sized pizza and salad as though it would run away if he left it for too long.  He drank a litre of pumpkin juice and was starting in on the coffee before he spoke another word.

"Ah, ye gods, that's better." He said finally, inhaling the fragrance from his mug.  He looked over the rim, meeting Hermione's implacable gaze, and sighed.  With difficulty, he sat up a little straighter on the squashy sofa.

"'Fess-up time, is it?" he queried.  "Okay."  He took a few moments to marshal his thoughts.

"The only place I could think of going when I escaped from Malfoy Manor was to Octavia." He began.  "I was tired, injured and very weak and I needed somewhere to go to ground to recover.  I broke into her flat, just like I did to you.  I held her at wandpoint and scared her badly enough to earn a few days' grace.  The truth about her is that she wasn't coerced over the debacle of last summer, but her part in it was not very great.  She knew she was a marked woman, and her chances of living to a ripe old age were slim.  My arrival pushed her to the limit.  She was between a rock and a hard place and she eventually decided to betray me to my father rather than shop me to the authorities."  He sighed sadly.

"I guess it must have been Pettigrew who killed her." he said matter-of-factly.  "He seems to relish being my father's personal hit-man – and it's something he seems to have quite a talent for.  Well, I suppose we all have to excel at something."  Hermione felt sick.  Draco took another long draught of his coffee.

"Well, once I had all my wits about me, I realised that something my father had let slip when he was interrogating me didn't completely add up.  I had queried it at the time, but he was understandably reticent, being, ah, otherwise occupied.  In torturing me, you understand."  Hermione shivered involuntarily.  Draco noticed and smiled sardonically.

"The Malfoys always were a close family." He remarked unnecessarily.  "Anyway, where was I?  Ah yes.  I went on an information hunt.  I spoke to Dobby at Hogwarts.  To my surprise, he seemed quite co-operative.  That makes twice.  A record amongst Malfoy House Elves, I believe.  I also spoke to that piece of slime, Cavendish, and then later on to Miss Ivy Knox."

"And were you responsible for her death too?"  Hermione knew she was being unfair, but she couldn't resist it.  Draco glared.

"Granger," he said, with dignity.  "If I had been responsible for Cavendish's death, I would own it with pride.  If he were alive now, I would despatch him with as little regret as I would kill a cockroach.  Sadly, I was not quick enough and Pettigrew got there first.  I believe he had the information I sought, and my father silenced him to prevent me from obtaining it.  However," His eyes flashed angrily.  "It's one thing to be accused of ridding the world of trash such as Cavendish, quite another to kill a defenceless old woman who was the one thing that made my benighted childhood bearable.  Believe me when I tell you that Miss Ivy Knox died peacefully of natural causes.  I was there.  She was very old, teetering on the edge of life when I finally tracked her down.  It was time."  Something softened in Draco's face.  Hermione frowned slightly.

"She was your old nurse?"  He nodded slowly but didn't speak.

"I failed to get the information I needed," he continued as though there had been no digression.  "And I reached a blind alley.  So I decided to try a different route.  I came to you.  I admit, my first impulse was to go to the lovely Miss Weasley, but by then I discovered that she had left the country with Potter."  He smiled enigmatically.  "So it had to be you."  

Hermione bit her lip.  She quickly recognised the reference to Ginny as being designed to get her off-balance and ignored it.  She realised that the information Draco was imparting was largely descriptive – there wasn't much factual stuff, and what little there was she could have divined herself.

"This – information you're tracking down." She began cautiously.  "It concerns your family history, yes?"  Draco gave her a politely blank stare.

"Oh, come on, Malfoy!" Hermione countered impatiently.  "The old nurse, the ex-house elf, the family solicitor – it's not exactly going to be inside information about Gringotts you're going for, now is it?"  Draco's face was closed and shuttered.

"That is none of your concern."

"Ah, no.  You see, that's where you're wrong.  I think it _is my concern.  Very much."_

~oo0oo~

The terrace was small but well-appointed, the sea view spectacular, and the furniture pristine and decoratively arranged.  Lucius Malfoy examined the seat of his chair for dust before he allowed his immaculate robes to touch it, then proceeded to inspect the contents of the table for flaws.  By the time the waiter came for his breakfast order, he had discarded two glasses and a knife.  The waiter, having been warned by his employer as to the volatile temper of this particular guest, removed and replaced the offending articles quickly and with profuse apologies.  He promptly produced a pitcher of iced pumpkin juice and once more tried for an order.

Lucius grunted irritably at the menu and finally made his choice with ill grace.  Considering that this was a small, exclusive wizard hotel, the only one on the island of Bali, whose existence was totally unknown to the majority of the magical community and whose prices were astronomical, he felt he was entitled to perfection in all things.  He frowned heavily and opened the Daily Prophet.

He was steadily working his way through a plate of miniature pumpkin pasties when the scrape of a chair alerted him to another's presence.  He glanced over the top of his newspaper and his lips curved in something resembling a smile as a graceful figure joined him at the table.

"Good day." He said politely.  "Did you sleep well?" She shrugged without smiling.

"As well as could be expected." The waiter took her order for breakfast.  She turned back to Lucius.

"It was more comfortable than the hospital, and certainly better than Azkaban."  

The newcomer was tall and lithe and moved with a cat-like grace, betraying exceptional muscle tone.  Her smooth impassive features were startling in their beauty, but Lucius frowned slightly at her clothes – muggle army fatigues, boots and a loose khaki vest, with her luxuriant dark hair scraped severely away from her face.

"Must you dress in that disgusting fashion?" he admonished her.  "If I'm going to squire you around this hotel, not to mention pick up the tab, I expect you to look a little less like the hired help and more like – "

"A call girl?  A prostitute?  Is that what you want?"  The woman's face creased into grim amusement.  She shook her head and reached for the pitcher of juice.  "Underneath the façade, you men are all exactly the same."  Lucius's hand shot out and locked on her wrist before she could lift the jug, immobilising her arm.  He raked his eyes up and down her body insolently, never once letting a ghost of a smile touch his mouth.

"Don't forget, my pretty one, that you were dying when you came to me." he said in low tones.  "After that muggle butcher was through with you, you could barely stand, let alone Apparate.  Without my help, you'd still be rotting away in Azkaban – they'd have tracked you down within hours!"  Not a muscle twitched in that smooth, brown face.  Without breaking her glance, the woman flexed her arm and, to Lucius's astonishment and dismay, lifted the jug smoothly away from the table, brushing his hand away like a dead leaf.  She poured some juice into a glass and returned the jug to the centre of the table.

"Now listen to me, you self-important little man." She began, her eyes hard.  "I take orders from no one, least of all a decadent, treacherous mud-grubber like you.  I'm not here for your amusement, certainly not your convenience.  I follow my own agenda, and don't you forget it, or I warn you, I'll make you wish you'd stayed in England!"  Lucius sneered, but his face rapidly changed as he realised that breathing was becoming difficult.  He raised his hands to his neck, tugging at his collar, but it was no use.  His eyes were bugging out, his face was going purple, his mouth was wide with agonised horror.  And then suddenly it was over.  He collapsed over his unfinished breakfast, coughing and whooping in relief.  The woman smiled at him over her glass.  She had not moved a muscle.  Lucius slowly recovered, staring at her in puzzlement.

"Katia." He wheezed.  She frowned.

"That's Miss Valentin to you!" she hissed.  He ignored her.

"Where is your wand?"  Her smile reappeared and she raised her eyebrows in mock-surprise.

"Oh, did I forget it?  How very clumsy of me.  Perhaps I'd better summon it now.  _Accio!_"  She snapped her fingers, held out her hand and a wand smacked straight into the palm.  Lucius gaped.  Katia leaned across the table and put her finger under his chin to close his jaw.

At that moment, the tableau was interrupted by the arrival of two other persons.  The first was a dark, stocky wizard dressed in black robes with a sour expression.  He nodded to Lucius.

"Malfoy." he said by way of greeting before sitting down.

"Macnair." responded Lucius.  The second new arrival was almost unrecognisable due to a thick layer of bandages covering most of his face.  Lucius frowned irritably.

"For Merlin's sake, Pettigrew, haven't you managed to heal those burns yet?"  The other wizard squirmed uncomfortably.

"Wildfire's really difficult to deal with, Lucius."  He responded in muffled tones.  "I'd heal them all now if I could, honestly.  It's really painful, especially at night."  Lucius picked up his newspaper in disgust.

"You always were a fool, Pettigrew." He spat.  "I'm surprised you're still alive.  But you have this habit of crawling back from whatever slimy pit you manage to hide in when the going gets tough.  Well, you'd better stop whining and do something about making yourself look decent.  You're due in London today, in pursuit of my errant son.  And don't even think about coming back here until you've found him!"  Quiet, ironic laughter drew their attention away from Pettigrew.  Katia smiled.

"Wildfire?  Was it Potter who set that on you?  You must be very stupid not to have taken precautions against such an obvious attack."

"I was working at a distance." protested Pettigrew.  "There wasn't time."  Katia laughed louder but declined any further comment.

"Oh, and I suppose you would have reversed the spell and sent it back on its caster, eh?" Taunted Lucius nastily, knowing that this feat was almost impossible, and having taken a distinct dislike to this arrogant woman.

"Of course." She responded, calmly.  "I am never wrong-footed."

"How did you end up in Azkaban then?" demanded Pettigrew, stung by her scorn.  Katia rose from her chair and rounded on them, her eyes flashing with anger.

"You fools!" she hissed.  "I spit on your stupid ambitions.  Your obsession with Potter and the Weasley girl.  I don't give a broken quill for their mind bond, my only concern now is with revenge.  Sirius Black betrayed me, and he must be made to pay – with his life!"  Lucius raised an eyebrow.

"Well, we are of one mind on _that_ issue at least." He commented lazily.  She turned to him, her anger now well under control.

"Don't mess with me," she told him, flashing her glance briefly at the others.  "Any of you.  You would do well to remember that I am one of the most powerful Dark Wizards still living – and the only one of Lord Voldemort's personal apprentices still extant.  All the others are dead, only I remain."  Turning on her heel she stalked off the terrace.

Lucius turned to his two henchmen for once totally lost for words.  This was something he had never expected.  He wondered how he could twist it to his advantage.

~oo0oo~


	11. Draco

Disclaimer:  _This story is written for the purposes of my own amusement and, hopefully, that of my readers, and no profit of any kind is being generated by it or by either of its prequels.  All characters and history belong to J.K. Rowling and to whosoever she has licensed her creations at the present time.  I own the plot and the odd original character, nothing else._

 Credit to "Universal Soldier" for the gist of one scene here.  If you've seen it, you'll know which one I mean! 

**_Sorcerors' Endgame_** A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Penpusher Sequel to "By the Pricking of My Thumbs" 

**Chapter Ten: Draco******

Draco sighed in defeat.

"So," he said finally. "To put in a nutshell what you have been stubbornly telling me for the past half hour, you won't assist me any further until I give you chapter and verse on the information I'm seeking with regard to my family, yes?"  Hermione nodded stiffly.  It had taken a long time to get to this point and she wasn't going to blow it now.  Draco sighed again and frowned at her swollen belly.

"If I hex you, I hex two people, with no guarantee that I won't seriously damage one of you.  That would be very bad press." he continued.  "You have categorically stated that you won't duel with me, in case you inadvertently harm the baby.  All other considerations aside, I can't do any of this without my wand.  Which you are still holding.  So my options have more or less dwindled down to one, that is, convincing you to help me because it's the right thing to do." He smiled grimly, paused then let out an explosive breath.

"Diplomacy – that's a really tall order for a Malfoy." he admitted.  Hermione prodded him impatiently.

"Then get on with it." she ordered him sternly.  Draco shied away from the poking finger.

"Hey!" he protested. "That tickles."

"That's because you're too thin." retorted Hermione.  "You should eat more."  Draco eyes his empty plate wistfully.

"I tried," he said plaintively. "But the food ran out before I did."  Hermione sighed.

"I walked right into that one, didn't I?" She got to her feet, scooped up his plate and stalked back to the kitchen.

"Of course, you've never been too thin, have you, Granger?" Draco raised his voice a little so that she could hear it above the sounds of domestic bustle.  "Particularly now, of course."

"Just watch it." she responded.  She put her head round the kitchen door and waved a ladle threateningly.  "I take it you want to eat the food, not wear it."

"Okay, okay." Draco subsided into the sofa.  He huddled closer to the fire, wishing he could change his still damp clothes.  These were the only ones he owned now, but there was no way he could face wearing any of Weasley's stuff.  Always assuming Hermione would let him, of course.

The hot pumpkin soup was doubly welcome.  Hermione was feeling slightly peckish and poured some into a mug for herself.  Draco drank two large servings and demolished half a loaf of bread before even slowing down.  Hermione wondered privately if what he had told her about his lack of sustenance during the past week had been the literal truth.  She mentally shook herself and turned to him.

"Okay, Malfoy," she barked,  "You've been fed and watered for the second time.  Now spill!"  

Draco almost quailed under her fierce gaze.  _Funny, he thought, __how I can face up to my father in one of his rages, Pettigrew going psycho with the Avada curse, and any number of nameless horrors while keeping my cool and finding a way out, but when faced with Granger the Inquisitor, I go to pieces.  He took a deep breath, then gave her a sideways glance._

"I hope you've got all night," he told her, only half-humorously.  "Because this is going to be as comprehensive a history of my life as I've ever told anyone."

~oo0oo~

_During their Fourth Year at Hogwarts, a little sister was born to Draco at Malfoy Manor.  Because this was the year of the Triwizard Tournament, the Yule Ball had kept most of the Hogwarts students at school during the Christmas holidays, including Draco.  Consequently, he did not meet his little sister until he came home for the Easter break.  By that time, she was fully six months old, a crawling, laughing, giggling, smiling little bundle of blonde-haired mischief.  Draco instantly fell in love, an emotion so foreign to his hitherto cold and selfish heart that it promptly turned his world upside down.  Somehow the bleakness of Malfoy Manor was lifted by the presence of the little girl, the House Elves moved less timorously around the place, and even his mother looked happier than she had in years.  Of course, she still cowered away from Lucius, and greeted the time she had to spend in his company with fearful apprehension, but when he was absent, Narcissa was a different person.  The years would lift from her beautiful face, and Draco would see, for the first time, how she must have been as a carefree girl before her marriage.  _

_Draco had returned to Hogwarts for the new term with a reluctance at odds with his emotions on all previous leave-takings.  His mother did not write to him that term – the only letter he received was the usual one from his father filled with veiled threats concerning the consequences if he failed to do his family justice in the forthcoming OWLs.  Draco wasn't worried – his abilities had suddenly blossomed and he knew it.  No one was at all surprised that he emerged as top student in Potions (except perhaps Hermione) but what they didn't know was that he had earned every point.  He also became more than adept at Transfiguration and was secretly researching into the Animagus enchantment.  His knowledge was increasing daily, although he was careful to appear to keep his studies to a minimum.  So it was with excellent results and a spring in his step that Draco Malfoy boarded the Hogwarts Express to return to Malfoy Manor in a blaze of glory.  What he found there was very far from his expectations.  _

_The house was silent, spotless but empty.  It looked as though no one lived there, although the house elves were about their usual business.  Everything was hushed.  Draco was shown into the study to see his father. _

_Lucius was at his desk dictating to his quill.  He looked up as Draco entered and motioned him to sit down and wait while he finished his letter.  Draco was puzzled and rather resentful.  He was number one son, come home in a blaze of glory (even that prick Potter had been forced to congratulate him) and his father was making him wait before acknowledging his presence?  Draco wanted to shout from the rafters about how well he had done, how he had justified his father's faith in him, but he held his peace and waited.  Lucius finally completed his dictation, sat back and regarded his son with a thoughtful expression before beginning to speak.  Draco would remember his words and the horrible sinking feeling of numb disbelief until his dying day._

_His baby sister Aurora, Lucius informed Draco dispassionately, had died two weeks ago.  Draco was stunned.  He couldn't take it in.   He asked after his mother.  Lucius told him, with some impatience, that Narcissa was ill and was being cared for by specialists at St. Mungo's.  She was expected back as soon as possible._

_The shock was devastating, and there was no one to help the young Draco to come to terms with it.  Lucius, while relatively fair with his son, had never been an affectionate father, and the family nanny, Draco's old nurse, had been put into retirement immediately on Aurora's death.  With his mother ill in hospital and no other person to turn to, the young boy was left to cope with his shattered world as best he could. _

_Draco believed in Lucius.  His father's credibility was like a lifebelt to a drowning man.  He accepted the explanation of his mother's illness, and the tragic death of his beloved baby sister because his father had told him that these things were so.  He understood that his father had not considered it necessary to inform him of these events while he was in the middle of his OWLs lest grief should overwhelm him and affect his marks.  He even acknowledged that the funeral had already taken place and that he was not permitted to visit the grave.  What he couldn't endure or forgive was that his mother had loved his sister more than she loved him.  Narcissa had deserted Draco, abandoned him when he needed her most. She didn't care.  When, approximately one month later, Lucius gave him the news that his mother had died in hospital, Draco was unsurprised.  He received the knowledge of her death with the same quiet acceptance as before.  He attended her funeral, well-groomed, pale and serious as always, but he didn't cry.  Not one tear did he shed for his mother, nor for his sister, in public or in private._

_For the rest of his schooldays and on into his adulthood, the young Draco harboured bitter resentment against his dead mother for leaving him.  He hated her for her weakness in dying, at the time when he needed her most.  It was at this point that Draco's allegiance was sealed.  He would go with his father, he would cleave to the Dark Side, he would take instruction from Lord Voldemort himself, if that's what it took.  Every scrap of light and love in his life had, it seemed, willingly forsaken him.  Very well – he would find something permanent, something that wouldn't leave him, no matter how unworthy he became._

~oo0oo~

Hermione really did not know how to react to such a heartbreakingly tragic story.  But was it just a tale?  At Hogwarts, Draco had been perfectly capable of weaving the most creative lies imaginable.  Was this just another one of his fantasies, constructed merely to gain her sympathy?  She swallowed the tears of sympathy that were threatening her self-composure and forced her mind to remain calmly analytical.

"Malfoy, this is a very affecting tale," she began calmly.  "But you still haven't told me how it fits in with the information you're seeking."  Draco shrugged.

"Frankly, _any information concerning my sister is of vital importance to me, no matter how slight." he replied.  He caught her eye and quailed._

"Alright."  He held his hands up in surrender.  "Look, as I said earlier, my father said something about her, okay?  It was just after he'd caught me for the second time, and he was really angry.  He was about to use the Avada curse on me – "

"Oh, Merlin!" Hermione thrust her hand in her mouth, fighting back nausea.  Draco turned to her, a surprisingly gently expression on his face.

"That's how my father is, Hermione." he said quietly.  "That's how he's always been throughout my childhood.  Anything that fails him, he destroys – completely.  In my case, he was always indulgent, according to his lights.  After all, I was the only son and heir, the only child, unless he chose to re-marry.  However, when I_ blotted my copy book one time too many, his patience ran out."  He gave a tight-lipped smile and continued._

"Anyway, my father said, or rather _didn't say, something rather interesting.  He called my sister 'useless'.  He had been talking about Crabbe and Goyle, or some such nonsense.  Claiming that with all their limitations, they had at least produced sons who could continue the family line.  He was really harping on an old grouse he'd had about me for a long time – that I hadn't married Pansy Parkinson when I graduated.  Well, really that I hadn't married at all.  He wanted an heir.  He wasn't particularly fussy __who I married (so long as she came from a pureblood family, of course), it was more a question of would I please get on with it, and quickly, damnit!  Did you know that both Vincent and Gregory now have flourishing families?"  Draco shivered delicately._

"It makes you tremble in your shoes wondering how the next generation is going to cope, doesn't it?"  Hermione said nothing but silently agreed.

"So," continued Draco.  "When he came out with the 'useless sister' thing, the implication was that even if she could have achieved nothing else, she would at least have been able to marry and produce heirs – if she'd lived, of course."  Draco scratched his head.

"Now, you know how when you're in a really dangerous situation, sometimes your brain starts to work at double its normal deductive speed?  Come on, Granger!" he said as she stared at him in incomprehension.  "You've been in enough scrapes during your association with Potter to know what I'm talking about, surely!" 

"Oh, yes." Hermione responded quickly.  "Yes.  I do, as a matter of fact."

"Okay." replied Draco nodding.  "Well, believe it or not as I was facing death at my father's hands, I started wondering, of all things, how, seeing as she had died in infancy, my father could describe my baby sister as 'useless'."  He stopped speaking and looked at Hermione.  She shrugged helplessly.

"Perhaps he used the word simply because she – didn't live to adulthood." she suggested, searching for the appropriate words.  Draco shook his head.

"My father never uses words lightly." he replied. "I was actually looking for a distraction at the time, which is why I goaded him so much, but I didn't really put two and two together until much later."  Hermione frowned.

"At the risk of betraying my own stupidity," she said with dignity. "I'm afraid I still don't understand."  Draco sighed.

"Well, that makes two of us, Granger." he told her.  "Neither do I, but I know my father too well just to write it off as a momentary inconsistency."  He paused to swill the dregs of cold coffee around in his mug.

"And besides," he continued.  "If I'm _not on to something, why is my father pursuing me so diligently and leaving trail of death the width of the Bristol Channel in his wake?  __He obviously thinks I'm on to something, but for the life of me, I have no idea what."  Hermione had no answer.  She nodded at the empty mug._

"I take it you'd like some more coffee?"  Draco passed her the mug with an ironic smile.

"Indeed I would, Granger.  It keeps the brain ticking over."  As she replenished their mugs, she reflected that his statement was certainly true.  Without the coffee she would have fallen asleep hours ago.  Fortunately the baby wasn't objecting – it didn't like coffee as a rule and was inclined to make its opinions felt in no uncertain terms.  

"How did you escape from Malfoy Manor?" Hermione's eyes were wide.  Draco shrugged deprecatingly.

"I managed to secrete a wand." he told her, his eyes flickering slightly.  "I left Pettigrew and my father bound up in so many different hexes it should have taken them hours to get free."  Hermione stifled a giggle, then her face became serious.

"Draco," she asked in a small voice.  He raised his eyebrows.

"Why didn't you – I mean, you could have used _Avada Kedavra on them.  Well, at least on Pettigrew."  Draco smiled ironically._

"You think I should have AK'd my dear old dad?  Shame on you, Granger.  No, no, relax, Hermione, it's a perfectly valid question."  He held his hands up against her protests.

"You know," he said, conversationally. "One of the main reasons why I was such a disappointment to my father in my Dark Arts training was my difficulty with the three Unforgiveables.  Dad blamed my Hogwarts education."  He gave a mirthless chuckle. "He said he should have sent me to Durmstrang, but he needed to make nice with the Ministry, so Hogwarts it was.  And here I am."

There was a short silence, punctuated only by the shifting of a log in the fireplace.  Hermione got up to put some more wood on the fire.  Draco looked at his sodden boots, now steaming.

"Do you mind if I …?" he gestured at his feet.

"No, of course not." she turned to him.  "Look, do you need to change clothes?"  He shook his head.

"No.  Actually, I'm drying out nicely in front of this fire.  It's just that my feet are still like blocks of ice, and the boots are going to stay soaked unless I get them off pretty soon."  Hermione stuffed them with back copies of the Daily Prophet and stood them on the hearth.  Draco eventually consented to take off his socks and hang them over the fire irons for while.  His feet were very pale and delicate with long bones, Hermione noticed.  Graceful, like the rest of him.  She gave herself another mental shake: where was the point in getting sympathetic with Malfoy?  Don't forget, he tried to enslave your best friend and sister-in-law.  He's a bad egg.  She squared her shoulders.

"So, Malfoy," she raised her chin.  "What do you want me to do for you?  Try to smooth the way for you a little at the Ministry?  I believe I can guarantee your life, if not your liberty, _if you hand yourself over quietly."_

"Unconditional surrender – is that it?"  Draco was smiling.  "Thank you, Dr. Granger, but no.  I may have parted company with the Dark Side, but I'm not yet ready to betray them, especially not to the Ministry."

"So what do you want from me?"  Hermione spread her hands in perplexity.  "Malfoy, I really believe your only hope of staying alive is to give yourself up to Ministry Aurors now – tonight, without any more wrangling."  Draco's smile widened.

"Gee, and I thought all you wanted me to do was leap tall buildings in a single bound!"  Hermione was puzzled.

"Muggle TV show – it's amazing what one can be reduced to when one is recovering from injury.  Forget it."  Draco waved his hands irritably.

"But why won't you even consider it?" she replied, frowning.  "Don't you trust me to do my best for you?  Stupid questions, I suppose."  Draco reached forward and took her hand in a surprisingly theatrical gesture.  His fingers were icy.

"My dear Dr. Granger," he said expansively.  "Of course I trust you.  I would trust you with my life, which isn't exactly worth much at the moment, but you get the point.  However, there are others at the Ministry of Magic who are, shall we say, less trustworthy."  He dropped her hand abruptly and his smile vanished.

"If I were to hand myself over to your precious Ministry minions, I'd be dead in a week!"  He snarled.  He got up from the sofa and started to pace the room.  Hermione gaped.

"Do you mean – are you implying that the Ministry has been infiltrated by the Dark Side?  Surely not!"  Draco laughed, an unpleasant, humourless sound.

"Granger, the Ministry is as full of holes as a sieve." he announced in an offhand manner.  "There's nothing that goes on there can't be obtained by an interested party – for a price."  Hermione was horrified.

"Come on, Malfoy." she scoffed.  "This is just a bluff to get me worried."  He shrugged.

"Suit yourself." he responded mildly.  "It's your funeral."  Hermione's eyes widened.

"Do you know where the, er, holes are?" she asked, after pondering this startling information for a while.  Draco smiled cynically.

"Of course I do.  I'm not my father's son for nothing, you know."

"Then you could use that."  Hermione was urgent.  "Use your inside knowledge to bargain for your freedom."  Draco scowled.

"I told you, I won't betray anyone." he replied.  "I'm not going to profit by other people's blood."

"Oh, yes?" Hermione was indignant.  "Since when did _your hands become whiter than white?"_

"Ah, who cares?  I'm not doing it, just take my word for it, okay?" Draco turned his back on her and walked over to the mantelpiece, having lost interest in the conversation.  Hermione took a deep breath and joined him by the fire.

"Malfoy," she began. "It's this way: I won't help you unless you agree to give yourself up.  I just can't, in all conscience."  Draco turned to look at her.

"So it's an impasse, eh?"  She nodded.

"Something like that, yes."

But the stalemate between them was suddenly meaningless as at that moment, the front door of the apartment flew open with a crash to let loose a whirlwind.  A vortex of spinning air made its way into the living room, sweeping up possessions, small pieces of furniture, books and ornaments in its path.  Hardly knowing what she was doing, Hermione screamed and grabbed hold of Draco's shirt in shock.  Her mind started working very quickly indeed and she reached into her sleeve to tear his wand free.

"Here!" she shouted, thrusting it at him.  "Quickly!"

Draco reached for the proffered wand and pointed carefully.  He spoke a steady stream of spell language, the like of which Hermione had never heard before.  She shivered.  Draco spoke one final word and a bolt of black lightening shot out of the end of his wand, hitting the vortex and splitting into a thousand separate threads.  The whirling winds seemed to slow down, gradually dissipating until a solid body was revealed and dumped unceremoniously onto Hermione's carpet.  It was a small, plump figure, balding, with a number of bandages over his head and face, looking about him in a state of mild surprise.

"_Pettigrew!" muttered Draco between his teeth.  Hermione turned terrified eyes on him._

"You brought him here!" she whispered.  Draco nodded slowly.

"Unfortunately, I suspect that you might be right."

"How _could you?"  But Draco wasn't listening.  He walked over to the balding wizard and stood over him without attempting to assist him to his feet._

"What are you doing here, Peter?" he demanded.  The fat little man clambered to his feet with difficulty and looked up with an oily smile.

"Draco!" he said.  "I've traced you at last!  You certainly move fast."  He glanced around the flat, his eyes fixing on Hermione.  His expression changed.

"Ah, yes.  I remember." he said, voice and face hardening.  He moved over to her, grabbing her roughly by the arm.  Hermione cried out in fear.

"You're one of Potter's crowd, aren't you?  Yes."  His fingers tightened on her wrist, the nails digging into her flesh.  "You were there in the Shrieking Shack, that night with Sirius Black.  Yes, I owe you for that one."  He turned to Draco.

"This is good work, Draco." he told him.  "If you kill her now, then wait for Weasley to return and kill him too, I'm quite sure Lucius will take you back into the fold."  He laughed maniacally.  "Particularly if I can have some fun with this one first.  Oh, please, please let me!"  The look of delighted anticipation on Pettigrew's face filled Hermione with a sinking dread.  Draco would betray her.  He would hand her over to Pettigrew and laugh while she was tortured to death.  _You're a fool for trusting him! she told herself angrily. __You even gave him his wand back.  Now you'll pay the price, and so will Ron.  Three of us will die because of your carelessness!_

Draco swallowed hard at the sight of Pettigrew's undisguised lust for pain.  He hadn't expected that a decision of this nature would be required of him quite so soon.  To watch Pettigrew indulge his craving for torture would be hard to live with, but he had witnessed worse things and survived.  Peter was utterly unspeakable, of course, but Draco wouldn't necessarily have to work with him in the future.  He could forget about this, block it out.  All he had to do was step back, take his mind off the hook, erect a Wall of Silence, raid the kitchen for more food. He'd be back in with his father again, all sins forgiven.  Draco toyed with his wand – and made his decision.

He turned to Pettigrew, still slavering over the terrified, pregnant girl, and pointed his wand directly at the other's head.

"You're a coward and a liar, Wormtail!" he shouted at the astonished wizard.  "My father will never forgive me.  He'll just accept what I have to give him, then turn me over to you for disposal.  Sorry, but when I die, I intend for it to be at the hands of someone a good deal more adept than you.  And more intelligent too.  _Stupefy!"  The stunspell hit Pettigrew full in the face.  He dropped like a stone.  Wasting no time, Draco began to cast a bodybind.  Hermione, having recovered from her paralysis, quickly drew her wand to help.  Draco snarled at her to keep out of the way, then began a very complicated charm, drawing luminous symbols in the air over the body and muttering quietly under his breath, finally touching the unconscious Pettigrew once on the forehead.  A small, blue circle appeared between his eyebrows, only to fade away gradually.  Draco pulled out a black handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow._

"Wh – what have you done to him?"  Hermione quavered.  Draco turned to her and grabbed her upper arms, urgency written all over his face.

"Never mind that now," he replied. "We've got more important things to worry about.  Pettigrew must have followed some kind of homing hex to find me here.  I suspected it before, but now I'm sure.  We've got to find it quickly and disable it before my father sends reinforcements to do Pettigrew's job properly!"  Draco placed his wand on the mantelpiece out of harm's way.

"Granger." he began.  "Your husband's an Auror and you were one of the nosiest witches in Hogwarts."  Hermione flushed indignantly but remained silent.

"In my experience, leopards don't change their spots.  Now, you're not going to tell me that what Weasley knows, you don't, are you?  You must have learned the standard Auror screening spells for homing charms."  Hermione stared.

"Well, as it happens, I did, but …"

"Then use them – quickly!"  Hermione shut her mouth and obeyed.  She had been interested enough to quiz Ron about his system for dealing with rogue hexes, and had taken the time to learn the standard operating procedure because, well, you never knew when you might need something like that.

_You certainly don't! she thought, as she activated her wand, voicing the appropriate commands.  It took ten minutes, during which Draco stood passively, allowing her to cast whatever spells she chose over his defenceless body.  She could have Stupefied him several times over, Hermione knew it, but still she kept on checking and re-checking until she was sure._

"Nothing." she announced, re-sheathing her wand.  Draco turned.

"What?" 

"I said nothing." she glared back into his angry eyes.  "Zilch.  Rien.  Zip.  Nada.  Which part didn't you understand?"

"It can't be."  Draco started to pace again.  "You must have made a mistake."  Hermione swelled in indignation.

"I did _not!" she shouted, now very angry.  "I don't make mistakes like that.  You are under no kind of homing charm, period!"  _

Draco leaned his hands and forehead against the mantelshelf, knuckles whitening in frustration.  Abruptly, he pushed himself upright and began to fumble at the buttons on his shirt.  It was only when he had taken it off completely and was beginning on his trousers that Hermione managed a squeak of protest.

"Malfoy, what in Merlin's name do you think you are doing?"  Draco glared back at her.

"If the tracer isn't magical, then it must be muggle." he snarled shortly without pausing in his task.  "You need to search these – every square millimetre!"  He continued to strip efficiently.  Red-faced and mortified, Hermione pushed him out of the living room and into her bedroom, shutting the door on his derisive comments about maidenly modesty.  She picked up the clothes he tossed into the hallway and had begun to search them minutely when an idea occurred to her.  Gazing into the fireplace, she muttered briefly, watching the flames turn red then orange.

"Come on, Lee!" she murmured.  "Just be there, won't you?"  A drowsy, black face rubbing the sleep from its eyes appeared in the fireplace.

"Jus' a minute."  Lee pulled a bathrobe over his shoulders.  "Who is it?" He squinted into the flames and his eyes widened.

"Hermione!  What do you want at this time of night?"  Hermione smiled as he tugged the neck of his robe tighter around his neck.

"I thought it would be the Ministry." he muttered in embarrassment.  "I'd never have answered dressed like this if I'd …"  He broke off, looking back over his shoulder.  A faint female voice could be heard in the background.

"It's okay, Ellen." Hermione heard him say.  "Go back to sleep.  I'll tell you all about it in the morning."  He turned back to the fire, shivering slightly in the night air.

"I'm sorry, Lee." Hermione's voice was soothing.  "It's my fault for calling so late, but I have, well, kind of an emergency on hand at the moment."

"Oh yeah?  What kind?  Should I call in somewhere for you?"  Hermione shook her head.

"Look, Lee, there isn't much time.  Please, just do as I say and ask questions later."  She pulled her thoughts together.

"I want you to grab your muggle surveillance detection gear and get here as quickly as possible." She drew breath and overrode him as he tried to speak.  "Lee, please don't argue with me, just do it, okay?"

"Sure, Hermione."  Lee sounded a little chagrined.  "I was only going to ask if I could get dressed first?"  This wrung a small smile out of Hermione.

"Yes, please do.  I can't be doing with two of you.  Go on!" she told him, riding down incipient questions.  "Get going – and hurry!"  She could hear Draco yelling to her from the bedroom, had she found anything yet.

Lee Jordan took a great deal of convincing.  Firstly, he couldn't imagine any possible circumstances where Hermione would contemplate helping Draco Malfoy, particularly considering the events of last summer; secondly, on sighting Peter Pettigrew, he was all for contacting the Ministry and handing them both over _tout suite; and thirdly, what on earth did Hermione think she was doing alone in her apartment with a naked Dark Wizard in her bedroom?  Lee could just imagine what Ron was going to say when he heard about this._

Hermione ignored him.  She flung Draco's clothes in his general direction with a curt order to scan them for surveillance devices.

"Bugs." muttered Lee, assembling his equipment sulkily.

"You can call them flobberworms for all I care, so long as you find them!"  

But Lee didn't find anything, not in Draco's clothes, not on Hermione, not anywhere Draco had been in the apartment.  Lee picked up his device and stalked into the bedroom.

Draco was sitting passively on the edge of Hermione's bed wearing a flimsy pair boxer shorts.  He was shivering.  He nodded unselfconsciously as Lee entered the room.

"Jordan." He said by way of greeting.  Lee didn't answer, just set up the equipment.

"You want to scan my underpants?" sneered Draco.  Lee shook his head.

"I'm going to go over the rest of the room.  See if whatever it is has dropped off somewhere."  He made as if to begin when he found his arm gripped tightly and a pair of angry, desperate eyes fixed on his face.

"If it's not in my clothes, Jordan, it must be in my body." he snarled.  "Scan me!"  Lee glared resentfully at Draco.

"Do it – please!" Hermione was standing in the doorway holding Draco's clothes, keeping her eyes carefully averted from his near-nudity.  Lee gave a heavy sigh and ran the scanner quickly over Draco's head and upper body.  Nothing.  He went lower, just skimming the pale surface of his skin with the device, never quite touching.  Still nothing, until he reached a scar on Draco's left calf.  The device let out a piercing whine which Lee quickly shut off.  He stood back to get a better look.

"Well," he said.  "There's your homing device, it's buried in the muscle of your calf.  Although how you're going to get it out is anyone's guess."

Draco was examining the half-healed wound, prodding and pressing the flesh around it until he located something small and hard.

"The bitch!" he muttered.  "I should have realised."  He looked up to where Hermione was still standing in the doorway.

"Octavia's work." he said.  "She healed this wound for me shortly after I arrived on her doorstep.  She must have planned to betray me all along."  He shook his head, then looked up.

"My clothes." he snapped.  Hermione threw them towards the bed.  Draco burrowed in one of the pockets and produced a knife: very small, very slim and very, very sharp.

"Malfoy, what are you …?" began Lee, but Hermione had already turned away with a gasp.  Without hesitation, Draco slashed into the muscle of his lower leg, inserting his fingers into the wound to grasp the foreign object.  Lee stared in disbelief, fighting the impulse to heave his lunch over Hermione's carpet, then found himself pushed unceremoniously out of the way as Hermione rushed in with an armful of towels.

"Why didn't you warn me you were going to commit hara kiri?" she demanded crossly, scattering the towels on the floor around him and reaching for her wand.  Draco leaned back, his teeth clenched against the pain.  Hermione touched the wound with the point of her wand.

"_Medeor reparo!" she said quickly.  The flow of blood ceased and the two sides knit together, not perfectly but sufficiently for natural healing to take place.  Draco sighed with relief, and wiped the small black object in his hand on one of Hermione's towels._

"Hara kiri?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Japanese ritual suicide." she responded absently, still mopping blood.  At his silence she looked up.

"A muggle custom." she added.

"Oh." he examined the object recently removed from his leg.

"May I?"  Lee held out a hand.  Draco raised expressionless eyes to the other man then dropped the device into his hand.

"Hmm."  The techno-wizard examined it from all sides.  "Simple enough.  Emits a signal that the other side can follow."

"How can we stop it?"  Hermione asked.  Lee shrugged.

"Break it." he replied.  "Step on it, drop it out of the window, crush it in some way."

"Shouldn't we do just that – and soon?"  Lee frowned then began to smile.

"I don't know, there might be a better way of dealing with it." he said.  Excusing himself, he went back into the living from.  Realising that she was alone in her bedroom with Draco who was not yet dressed, Hermione beat a swift retreat to do something with the blood-soaked towels.  On her way to the kitchen, she heard Lee firetalking with George and wondered what they were up to.

"Sorted!" Lee was grinning from ear to ear.  "Lucius's minions will have a very interesting time tracking that particular little homing device once George has had his way with it, I can tell you!"  Hermione was eyeing the prone figure of Peter Pettigrew in the middle of her living room.

"What should we do with him?" she asked Lee.

"Leave him."  Draco told her, coming out of her bedroom once more fully clothed.  "He's safe enough."

"But – he's an animagus."

"Yes, Granger, I've worked with him for several years.  I know exactly what he is."

"But …"

"I've used a Stability Charm on him.  He won't be able to Change while it lasts, and the bodybind should hold him steady until the morning."  Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"I still think my unbreakable glass jar was a far more stylish solution."  Draco looked mystified.

"Rita Skeeter.  In our fourth year at Hogwarts." She explained.  "That's why your little plot went pear-shaped.  Didn't you know?"  Draco stared at her, then broke into the first genuine laugh they had ever heard from him.

~oo0oo~

The quill rose and fell regularly, its rhythm only occasionally interrupted by the replenishment of ink.  Oliver Wood enjoyed writing.  He loved the way the nib glided over the thick parchment, the ebb and flow of the script, the slow, careful construction of the letters.  That was why, at midnight, he was still patiently catching up with his social correspondence.  He glanced at the clock and smiled: his letter was nearly finished.  Just a couple more sentences then he'd seal them for delivery by post owl.  He really needed to conserve Frost's strength for business flights.

A faint breeze tingled the hairs on the back of his neck.  Frowning, he raised his head, wondering if the air conditioning was on the blink.

"Sorry to startle you," came a low voice.  The lithe figure of Julie Wu stepped into view.  Automatically, Oliver smiled, aimed his wand at the kettle and teapot and reached for some extra parchment.

"So," he said, inking up the quill.  "What's new on the horizon for Harry this time?"  Julie didn't answer immediately, and when she did she was surprisingly unwilling to meet his eyes.

"Actually, nothing." she said eventually.  "I'm – not here on business."  Slowly Oliver laid down his quill.

"Then why have you come?" he asked carefully.  She raised her eyes to his then looked away quickly.

"I wanted to see you." She said jerkily, as though the words were difficult to get out.  Abruptly she sat down on the sofa, chewing her lip.  Oliver looked at her for a moment then he rose from his desk and moved over to sit beside her.  He stretched out a cautious hand to capture hers.  She did not attempt to reclaim it.

"What is it?" he asked gently. "What do you want to say to me?"  She shook her head, still not meeting his eyes.

"I really don't know." She gave a shaky laugh.  "I've never been in this situation before, never felt so darned unsure of myself."  The tea things had finished their ministrations. Oliver picked up his wand and pointed it at the two mugs.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!" he muttered, bringing them skilfully to the coffee table without spilling a drop.  Julie picked up hers, cradling it in her hands as though trying to absorb its warmth.  She sipped at it for a moment, then turned to Oliver, an almost angry expression on her face._

"Damn you!" she said viciously.  "Why couldn't you have been like all the others?"  Oliver's face did not change.

"Because I'm not like all the others." he replied flatly.

"Julie," he began, relenting, "I'm not looking for a good time – I've been there, done that and got so many teeshirts I can't close my wardrobe door!"  He paused to sip his tea.

"I'm older, wiser, I've been in this game longer than you and, damnit, I'm lonely!"  She stared at him in shock.  He smiled.

"Yes, I know." he continued. "You're not supposed to say things like that.  In this jetset world of glamour and glitter, you're not expected to crave stability, certainty, domesticity, and all those other boring things that make up an adult life.  Including love."  He saw her flinch and decided that it was too soon to say anything.  There was a pause then she stirred and turned her head to meet his eyes.

"You're – so different from anyone I've ever wanted." she told him, almost wonderingly.  "I was so angry with you for saying no.  No one has ever said no to me before."  Oliver allowed himself a small, private smile at that admission.

"I thought, if you won't let _me manipulate you," she continued, "Then how much more would you stand up against your enemies?"  She gazed at him with bright eyes._

"You're risking a good deal by helping Harry Potter, you know," she told him.  He nodded.

"I know." he said quietly.  "If things go wrong, I'll be as exposed as anyone in this little charade.  But that doesn't mean I'm not going to do my job as well as I can."

"Yes," she replied with equal seriousness, "and I really admire your courage, your determination to do what you believe is right.  And I know you'd lay down your life without a second thought for your friends.  Steadfast, that's what you are." she gave a small chuckle.  "An old-fashioned word."

"For an old-fashioned guy." he put in, the corners of his mobile mouth beginning to lift.  She returned the smile shyly then looked away again.

"I found myself thinking that I'd really like to be one of those friends, Oliver."  He nodded gravely and appeared to give her surprising statement serious thought.  In actual fact, Oliver had already considered the pros and cons of a relationship with Julie Wu very thoroughly and in great detail.  He reckoned he had most of the options covered, but he was interested to hear what she had to say for herself.  She took a deep breath.

"The most difficult thing for you, I guess, would be trusting _me." she began without preamble.  "You know what my life has been until now.  You know that I'm not exactly practised at long-term relationships.  You're also aware of the demands my job puts upon me – it's unpredictable and dangerous, and my working hours are so unsocial you just wouldn't believe!  Occasionally I have to go undercover, use a false persona.  If it's a strong character, it's sometimes hard to lay it to rest for a long time after the job is done.  That can be difficult for friends to cope with."_

"Not to mention the use of sex and violence." put in Oliver with a meaningful glance.  Her mouth quirked and she took his hand, absently stroking the fingers.

"The violence is in self-defence.  As for sex, that's always going to be my choice, you know?" she said in a low voice.  "I told you I've never yet killed anyone in the line of duty?  Well, I've never yet had to sleep with anyone either."

"And nor will you." he replied, closing his hand around the stroking fingers possessively.  "There are some things, Julie, that transcend the demands of a job, however worthwhile that job may be."  He ducked his head, trying to meet her eyes.  She looked up solemnly and nodded.

"Okay." she whispered.  She finished the last of her tea and placed the mug carefully on the table.

"And now I must go." she told him. "It's past the witching hour, and long past your bedtime, I believe."  She made as if to rise from the sofa, but Oliver caught hold of her fingers and drew her back.  Smiling, he lifted a hand to her flawlessly pale cheek.

"Not just yet." he murmured, smoothing her hair back from her face, brushing his lips lightly along her jawline towards her ear.  "It isn't every day something like this happens to me.  Cut me a little slack, please?"  His mouth captured hers in a gentle, unhurried kiss, strange yet familiar, exciting yet soothing.  _Oh gods, I've come home!  thought Oliver blissfully._

~oo0oo~


	12. The Hunt Begins

Disclaimer:  _This story is written for the purposes of my own amusement and, hopefully, that of my readers, and no profit of any kind is being generated by it or by either of its prequels.  All characters and history belong to J.K. Rowling and to whosoever she has licensed her creations at the present time.  I own the plot and the odd original character, nothing else._

**Author's Notes:****  Thanks for the reviews.  I need to give credit to Jane Austen for one small misquotation from Pride & Prejudice.**

**_Sorcerors' Endgame_** A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Penpusher Sequel to "By the Pricking of My Thumbs" 

**Chapter Eleven: The Hunt Begins**

****

****

Hermione sighed as she sipped her cocoa.  The argument with Lee had taken it out of her.  She really hadn't wanted to upset him, but he just wouldn't listen.

The problem was that it was 3.00am and nothing more could be resolved until morning.  They all desperately needed sleep, but Lee was adamant that he was not leaving Hermione alone with Draco.  This she could understand, and was grateful for his concern, but his solution to the problem was to contact Ron immediately.  It was there that she and Lee parted company.

Lee had had enough of Draco's theatricals, and of his precarious position _vis a vis Lucius and the Ministry.  He was also not impressed by the spectre of Peter Pettigrew's unconscious body on the floor of the Weasley living room.  It gave him the creeps, he said.  The situation was ridiculous.  Why not just get the Aurors in now?  It would save so much time and anguish later._

Hermione begged to differ.  Firstly, she gave an outright negative to contacting Ron.  All that would happen is that the two wizards would automatically fight a duel.  Ron would kill Draco, or Draco would kill Ron.  Either of which outcome would be a very unsatisfactory end to a stressful day.

Ron was on a twelve-hour shift, due to the panic over the Azkaban breakout.  He wasn't due back until 11 am at the very earliest, by which time Hermione fervently hoped that they would have come to some sort of agreement.  Otherwise – well, she really didn't want to think about it.

Grumbling fit to burst, Lee had bespoken Ellen who was far from sanguine about being woken up for the second time that night, and even less happy when she learned that Lee would not be returning home until late morning.  Convinced that this was the only way to ensure Hermione's safety, Lee retired in high dudgeon to the other sofa having issued pointed threats to Draco involving a live electrical cable and certain delicate parts of his anatomy should Hermione so much as sprain her little finger.  Hermione shrugged almost apologetically at Draco as Lee settled himself among the cushions and almost immediately began to snore.

"He feels responsible for me in Ron's absence." she explained with slight exasperation.  Draco had been somewhat nonplussed, pondering on what an electrical cable might be, live or otherwise.  He merely smiled vaguely, his unseeing eyes fixed upon the glowing coals consuming themselves away in the grate.  There was silence save for the tick of the clock.  Hermione's mug was empty.  From his silent immobility, she could almost believe that Draco was dozing, but the flicker of his eyelids betrayed him.

"Why don't you sleep?" she asked softly.  He turned his head, grey eyes glittering in the half-light.

"Why don't you?" he countered.  She shrugged and folded her hands over her abdomen.

"The baby's awake." she explained. "It seems to be a nocturnal creature, at least at present."

"Perhaps it's a werewolf," suggested Draco, "Or even a vampire.  Quite likely when you think about it, considering Weasley's the father.  At least, I assume he is."  Hermione felt no inclination to rise to these barbs, and indeed Draco himself delivered them in a world-weary, flat tone as though he was just going through the motions.  _I guess it must be hard to put your heart into hating someone after you've just saved her life. _ Hermione mused, taking a sidelong glance at the smooth, aquiline profile.  She shifted in her chair so she could observe him more easily.

"Malfoy," she began quietly,  "what do you think happened to your sister?"  There was a long pause, then the blonde man sighed and leaned his forehead against the heels of his hands.

"I honestly don't know." he replied.  "I think if my father hadn't loosed the dogs of war on me for trying to find out, I would have let it drop by now.  I've got so little to go on, yet there must be something about her death that wasn't above-board to get him so excited."

"But you have your suspicions?"

"Of course I do.  Everyone has suspicions.  It's giving them substance – that's where most of us come unstuck, myself included at the moment."  He scratched his head.

"I sort of wonder whether my mother went mad with grief, as I was told, or whether she was party to – whatever it was."

"Or whether she was locked away to silence her."  Draco stared then nodded slowly.

"Good on you, Granger." he said, respect dawning in his eyes.  "I hadn't thought of that one.  It would be just like my father to do something so pointlessly brutal to his wife of seventeen years."  Hermione chewed her lip.

"You really hate him, don't you?"  Draco raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, come now, Granger!" he told her with an urbane smile.  "I've grown up with this kind of treatment.  I was taught to lie, cheat and deceive when I was in my cradle.  I've had my Dark Arts training from the very best; you don't learn that sort of thing out of books, you know.  My father is an exceptional Dark Wizard – and yes, I hate him.  I hate him more than Potter hates Voldemort, the sick bastard, because believe it or not I have more reason to."  Hermione was startled.

"More reason to hate Lucius than Voldemort?  Great Merlin, Malfoy, what did he do to you?"  But Draco was shaking his head.

"You don't want to know, Granger." he said, his face graven in stone.  "Believe me, you don't."  

Draco, thought Hermione, was being surprisingly forthcoming about his family.  It had to be the after-effects of what they had gone through this evening.  Bearing that in mind, she decided to ask a very risky question.

"Malfoy?" she began again.

"Yes, Granger?" the tone was deceptively mild, but Hermione reckoned that he was reaching the end of his patience.  However, whatever she was, Hermione was no coward.  She squared her shoulders.

"Something I've always wondered.  Was it your idea or your father's to ensnare Ginny in that particular fashion?"  Draco sighed.

"I was so right about dotting 'i's and crossing 't's.  Can't you ever let anything go?  No." he shook his head wearily.  "No, you never could."  He leaned back against the sofa cushions and sighed heavily.  He turned his head giving her the benefit of his piercing grey eyes.

"Seeing as neither of us is likely to get any sleep," he began wearily,  "I may as well tell you.  After all, you probably know more now about my family than anyone outside its immediate environs.  What harm can yet another indiscretion do when I'm already facing Azkaban?"  There was a slight edge of despair to his tone.  Hermione swallowed the first faint stirrings of guilt and kept her mouth shut and her ears open.

"Unfortunately, it was my suggestion to attack Potter through his relationship with the lovely Miss Weasley." He began without rancour.  "As soon as she moved into his house, I realised now useful his resulting vulnerability could be to us.  I argued with my father over it.  I insisted we strike as soon as we could, before he could come to a proper understanding with her.  The earlier we attacked them, the easier it would be to pull them apart.  Once the snare was laid through our operatives in Iran and Potter had taken the bait, the redoubtable Miss Valentin was despatched to deal with that end of the setup.  When my father suggested that I not only lure Miss Weasley away from Potter but enslave her myself, I looked upon that as a definite improvement on the original plan.  In this way, three out of the four possible scenarios would have given us enough success to achieve our long-term objectives."  Draco pulled at the lobe of one ear in an oddly childlike manner.

"Of course," he continued, "I hadn't realised exactly what dear old daddy had in mind.  That potion was the absolute devil to concoct – I spent weeks researching it, and I had precious little to go on to guarantee its effectiveness or its correct formulation.  Then I realised that if I simply hit her with its effects all at once, it would be instantly obvious to her immediate circle that she was acting under coercion.  I had to play this one very coolly indeed."  

Hermione clenched her fists.  Draco was relating the history of one of the most painful events in her recent family history with as much emotion as he would describe a – a trip to Diagon Alley!  Ginny was still seriously traumatised.  Draco was describing his task as though it had been a military campaign.  Perhaps it had been.

"The role of Marcus Torrence came relatively easily." Draco continued, oblivious to Hermione's reaction.  "I've always been interested in music – in fact, in my adolescence, I seriously considered a career on the technical side.  Of course, at that time I didn't fully realise that the direction of my future was not exactly mine to choose."  He smiled ironically.  "Malfoys have only ever had one career."  Hermione forebore to tease him with questions on that subject for fear that he might answer them.

"The first part of the enchantment came easily."  He steepled his fingers, leaning his chin against the apex.  "Octavia used to make coffee so strong it would strip paint.  You could put Asafoetida into it and not notice."  Hermione wrinkled her nose at the mere notion of drinking the foul-smelling herb.

"The most critical decision for me was when to activate it."  He began to play with the cording around the edge of a cushion.  "After we'd done a couple of gigs together, I reckoned I'd smouldered around her long enough to make a relationship believable.  The first kiss cast a Compulsion on her.  From then on, she was totally lost.  I must admit, though, I was surprised to find that she could still think logically, even while obeying my Summons."  He looked at Hermione once again.

"She unmasked me, you know." he told her conversationally.

"Yes, she did tell me." It took all of Hermione's self-control to keep her voice steady.  Draco nodded.

"She caught sight of my reflection in a window." he continued with a grimace.  "Not the kind of trap my father would have fallen into.  But then my father would have enslaved her without a second thought.  Tumbled her into his bed and had his pleasure of her until she bored him, then handed her over for more of the same to whichever of his henchmen was most in favour at the time.  He's done it before."  Draco's expression was bleak.  Hermione swallowed and fumbled for the cold dregs of her cocoa to give herself something to do.  Otherwise she might just strangle him with her bare hands.  She frowned, partly at the taste, partly at a question running through her mind.  Before she could chicken out, she asked it.

"Why _didn't_ you enslave her?" she asked curiously.  "After all, she was totally at your mercy, and it was what you had been working for, striving for all that time.  Why did you let her go?"

This was the six-million-dollar question.  The rationale behind Ginny's almost miraculous escape had puzzled everybody who had heard about it.  Arthur Weasley had found it very difficult to believe at first, but Ginny stubbornly told the same tale every time she was persuaded to talk about it, and eventually he forbade discussion of the subject on the grounds that it was driving Ginny herself just as crazy trying to work it out.  Hermione had no real expectation that he would enlighten her, but she felt it incumbent upon herself to ask.  It was the question Draco had been dreading.

There was a long, long pause, then he sighed and leaned his forehead in his hands.

"Why did I spare her?" he said. "Why indeed!  The culmination of my magical education, a _coup d'etat_ for my father and the Dark Side, total vindication of my somewhat chequered career, and a sizeable leg up the status ladder for me."  He sighed again, shaking his head.

"I fell in love with her." he replied.  He made the momentous statement quietly and with no particular inflection, just as a statement of fact, nothing more, nothing less.  To Hermione, it was a bolt out of the blue.

"You – you're kidding!" she whispered, eyes as round as saucers.

"Yes, of course I'm kidding, Granger!" Draco reverted to snarling sarcasm.  "For years I've frequently been in the habit of declaring undying love for unsuitable females when the fancy takes me.  In fact, several times a day if there's an 'r' in the month."  

"But Draco, how could you?"  Hermione's first shocked reaction was to reject his explanation utterly.  She had never been a believer in the theory that Draco Malfoy had discovered compassion in the person of Ginny Weasley, and here he was claiming that it was not merely understanding, but love that had saved the girl from slavery.

"Do you think I'm proud of it?" he lashed back at her.  "Stone-hearted, cold, calculating, aristocratic Dark Wizard, Draco Malfoy falls for the little do-gooder from the poverty-stricken, muggle-loving Weasley family?  The whole idea makes me sick to my stomach."  He turned away from her and hugged himself tightly, his face stricken.

"But nevertheless, it's true.  No matter how many times I've tried to deny it, I can't forget her.  I can only put her out of my mind temporarily."  He shrugged helplessly.  "She always comes back."

Hermione pulled herself together.

"How did this happen?"  Draco shrugged sulkily then his face crumpled in despair.

"I don't know, Granger." he said wearily.  "It could have been spontaneous combustion, but I seriously doubt it.  Even in the Torrence persona, I don't think I'm quite _that_ susceptible."  He sighed.

"I guess it must have been the Enchantment." he said finally.  "Potions was always something I excelled at – everyone thought I got my marks because Snape was creating local colour by making me his favourite, but it wasn't the case.  I was quite happy to let you think so, however. " A faint smile hovered over his lips, then faded.

"It's a very old and difficult potion to create." he explained.  "I had help and guidance from an expert my father summoned from Russia.  A pupil of Rasputin, no less.  But despite all the safeguards, I suspect that I was hoist on my own petard."  He sighed again heavily.

"And what a fitting punishment for using an illegal enchantment akin to one of the Unforgiveables!" he said with savage irony.  "Cursed till my dying day to love a woman whom I can never hope to have: cold and blind to anyone else.  A very suitable retribution.  You may tell Miss Weasley when you see her.  No doubt she will appreciate the justice of the situation."  He buried his face in his hands and drew a shaking breath.

Hermione didn't quite know how to respond to this sudden outpouring.  She guessed that Draco was quite unaccustomed to baring his soul, and wondered vaguely how she, without ever having pretended to like or even approve of him, had become the recipient of his confidence.

Presently, Draco straightened, rubbing his hands over his face.

"I know she's pledged to Potter," he continued with remarkable candour, "And nothing I can do or say will change that fact.  I don't love her with any hope in my heart that she will one day see the error of her ways and come flying to my arms – believe me, Granger, you can't live the kind of life I have and retain _any_ sort of illusions, let alone illusions about love.  No." he continued, shaking his head.

"I love her not because I want to, but because I have to.  It's painful, inconvenient, mortifying – frightening even.  You see, this obsession has broken me wide open.  Woken me up and forced me to smell the coffee."  He looked up at Hermione and their eyes locked.

"The feelings I have now make it impossible for me to continue on my present path." He told her dispassionately.  "I have committed some horrible crimes over the years, but this enchantment – if that's what it is – has uncovered enough humanity left in me to destroy all my father's carefully laid groundwork.  I am still a Malfoy, but I now find myself revolted by my father, by his track record and by the history of my entire family.  I am a Malfoy, yes – but this is the end of the line for me as a Dark Wizard."

"What will you do now?" Hermione asked in the sudden silence that followed such a devastating pronouncement.  Draco shrugged and gave a small smile.

"It depends what you decide, Granger." he replied.  "Whether you will help me, or hand me over to the Ministry Minions."  Hermione pondered.  The ticking of the clock seemed suddenly loud in the silent room.  Over on the other sofa, Lee sighed in his sleep and turned over.

"What exactly do you want from me?" she asked, surprised that she hadn't thought to broach this subject before.  Draco gave a slight chuckle without looking at her then he turned and held her gaze.

"I want you to tell me where Potter is." he said, slowly and deliberately.  "Where he is, and how to get to him."

Hermione's hands rushed to her face.  How could she have been so blind?

"So you can pursue Ginny?" she demanded, shaking her head vehemently.  "Or wreak some sort of damage on Harry?  Not on your life, Malfoy.  Go work it out for yourself."

"I've been trying." he replied equably, not at all phased.  "I can't find hide nor hare of either of them on the grapevine, nor from any of my dwindling number of sources.  That's why I'm reduced to asking you."  Hermione was almost speechless.

"You sit here and spout about how much you care for Ginny," she began in furious indignation, "and then expect me to betray her at the first opportunity?  What sort of a friend do you think I am?"  Draco was shaking his head.

"A very loyal one," he replied, "however, also one who is not thinking very clearly."

"On the contrary, Malfoy!" Hermione was livid.  "I'm starting to think clearly for the first time since you stepped into this apartment!"  Draco turned to her, his eyes bright with urgency.

"Please, Hermione." he began, desperation seeping through the mask of control. "I have to find Potter."  He took hold of her upper arms in his insistence.  "Finding him, tracking him down is the only way I can get …"

"I've heard enough!" Hermione was beyond any kind of persuasion.  She flung his hands away as though they burned her.  She was so angry she failed to notice immediately that Draco had uttered a word she had never heard him use.  That word was 'please".

"And to think I nearly fell for it!" she was outraged.  Grabbing her empty mug, she swept off to the kitchen in high dudgeon.

"I'm going to bed!" she announced. "And don't even think of trying to get out of here.  Lee put Unbreakable Wards on the doors, windows and chimney.  Try to leave, and see where it gets you!"  Draco merely bowed his head in acknowledgment.

Some time after Hermione had retired to her room, Draco rose quietly from the sofa.  By this time, the fire was practically out.  The dying embers cast a faint glow around the room, just enough to see by.  Stealthily, Draco drew his wand, walked feather-footed over to where Lee Jordan lay snoring, and traced a complex symbol over his supine form, muttering softly.  Lee grunted and turned over, his breathing evening out again.  Draco smiled.  He padded out into the hallway and turned to the door of Hermione's bedroom.  He shook his head, smiling faintly.

"First and last mistake, Granger." he said quietly.  "You should have kept tabs on my wand."  He drew the same intricate symbol in the air outside her door, murmuring in a similar fashion.  When he was satisfied, he withdrew to the living room.  With the point of his wand, he marked out the eight corners of the apartment and joined them together.

"_Paries Silentii!_" Draco whispered, efficiently erecting his Wall of Silence.  He lowered his wand and turned to the still form of the hitherto abused and ignored Peter Pettigrew. 

"Now, Peter my lad." he said, smiling as he swiftly removed the other's wand from an inside pocket.  "Let's see what you know, shall we?  _Enervate!_"

~oo0oo~

The time was seven minutes past eleven in the morning.  Ron Weasley wearily angled his broomstick to land on the balcony of his apartment and turned the door handle.  It wouldn't budge.  However hard he tried, he couldn't make the door move.  Even _Alohomora_ failed.  Reluctantly, Ron lowered himself to ground level, using an Everyday Charm to conceal the strangeness of his activities from prying muggle eyes.  He then ascended the stairs and tried to enter by the front door.  No response there either.  He returned to the balcony, by now seriously worried, and checked the windows – no luck.  He used a Levitation Charm to try to get in via the kitchen and bedroom windows – still no joy.  Through a gap in the curtain, Ron could see Hermione still fast asleep in bed.  His tapping became loud knocking, pounding and yelling, but she remained stubbornly unresponsive.

By the time consciousness crept into Hermione's brain, it was twelve-thirty and Ron was practically hoarse with shouting.  At first, she found it difficult even to remember her own name – her head was pounding, but she had no memory of having done anything the previous evening to deserve a hangover of such magnitude.  She tumbled out of bed, dimly registering a loud noise outside the front door, then gasped in alarm as her auditory centres recognised and identified the origin of the din.  On admitting her furious husband into their apartment, Hermione felt sufficiently confused to be unable to give a satisfactory account of the events of the previous evening.  Instead she told Ron to be quiet in no uncertain terms, and snatched up a piece of parchment lying openly on the sofa.  She gasped, scanning it quickly, her hand over her mouth.

"Hermione, for the last time, will you tell me what is going on around here?"  Ron was positively dancing with fury.  Hermione made a noise of frustration and chagrin, looked up at her irate husband and thrust the parchment at him wordlessly.  Ron seized it and read:

_Be not alarmed, my dear Granger, on receiving this note by the suspicion that it may contain anything that could cause distress either to you or to your esteemed husband_. 

Puzzled, Ron snorted softly.  

_As I explained to you last night, for the preservation of my life I cannot allow you to deliver me to Ministry Authorities while the status quo remains unchanged.  I fully understand your reluctance to reveal the whereabouts of your two greatest friends, but you will be fascinated to learn that Pettigrew was a good deal more receptive to persuasion than were you.  Do with him what you will with my blessing, I have no further need of the idiot.  On second thoughts, perhaps the Ministry would be inclined to look upon my plight more favourably if it became known that I was his captor?  _

_A word to the wise: if circumstances remain unchanged at the Ministry, Pettigrew will not survive long enough to spill his guts, let alone testify. _

_Caio,_

_Draco Malfoy_

_P.S.    I apologise for the use of the Dormosus charm.  A crude method of buying time, but nonetheless effective.  My sincere apologies for the unpleasant after-effects._

Hermione blushed to the roots of her hair under Ron's incredulous stare.

"You mean – " he began in a strangled voice, "Draco Malfoy was – here?  In our home?"  His astonishment turned to horror.  He grabbed her shoulders.

"'Mione, what did he do to you?  Is the baby okay?" she shook her head firmly.

"Nothing, Ron." she replied. "He did nothing to me at all, and the baby's fine.  Really." she added, as his expression became disbelieving.  She sighed.

"He came for help." she told him resignedly.  Ron's eyes practically started out of his head.

"Help?" he squeaked.  

Hermione stared at her husband.  This was a most unfortunate turn of events – and it wasn't even her fault!  She was humiliated to think that Draco Malfoy had outwitted her – her!  Hermione Granger-Weasley!  Cleverest witch of her Hogwarts generation!  But she hadn't exactly invited him, had she?  He had waltzed into their apartment without so much as a by-your-leave and proceeded to turn her life upside down.  How could she had made the most elementary mistake in the book and allowed him to keep his wand?  Hermione fumed silently.  She suspected now that flouncing off to bed in a full-scale snit had been more Draco's idea than hers.  If she hadn't been so rattled, she might have remembered that he was still armed.

Marshalling her thoughts, Hermione gave Ron a concise account of the events of the previous evening, interspersed with comments largely of a defensive nature from a very subdued and bleary-eyed Lee Jordan.

"I wanted to call you, Ron." he said plaintively, ignoring Hermione's glares.  She trod heavily on his unshod foot, ignoring his yell of pain.

"Well, darling, at least you've got Wormtail." she told her husband in a 'look on the bright side' tone of voice.  Ron, however, was not listening; he was busy scanning Draco's message for the second time.

"Bloody hell!" he swore violently, crumpling the parchment between his hands. "That really tears it!"  Hermione raised her eyebrows interrogatively.  Ron sighed and took Hermione's hand in his.

"We had confirmation this morning." he told her in a quieter voice.  "Lucius and MacNair are already in Bali.  Fortunately, we managed to intercept their backup team before they could Port out to join them." Ron made a disgusted noise.

"They tried to use a designated Portkey exchange, the idiots!  We picked them up as soon as they passed the front entrance."  Hermione frowned.

"So if Lucius knows where Harry is," she began slowly, "then so does Pettigrew."

"And right now, so does Draco!"  Ron ran a hand through his hair and sighed heavily.  "That's all we need now – Draco joining the party in Bali.  The only saving grace we have is that none of them know Harry's exact whereabouts on the island.  Of course, that's something of a two-edged sword, as we don't either." His grim smile faded as he considered the rest of his news.  

"Our contact reported that Lucius is staying at an exclusive wizard hotel in Nusa Dua – accompanied by an unknown woman." He looked up at Hermione with worried eyes.

"I think we can take an educated guess as to who that might be." he added bleakly.

~oo0oo~

Mouse propped a bulging rucksack against his shins and unrolled a small piece of parchment.  He frowned then yelped, snatching away burnt fingers as the message spontaneously combusted immediately he had absorbed its content.

"Ah, shit man!"  He dropped the parchment and watched as it disintegrated before his eyes, sucking his burnt fingers in disgust.  He would never, _ever get used to these weird methods of communication._

A shadow fell over him and he looked up involuntarily into blue, blue eyes that seemed to expand to fill the whole universe.  A strangely soporific feeling of contentment suffused his being.  It was something like being stoned or hammered, his conscious mind observed.  Then he stopped listening.

The face around the eyes smiled in a friendly fashion.

"Excuse me."  The voice was quiet and cultured.  "I'm sorry to accost you in the street, but I'm a friend of Virginia Weasley and I need to get in touch with her urgently.  I understand that you might know where I can find her."  Mouse grinned broadly at the blue eyes.

"Yeah, sure I do!" he exclaimed, anxious to be of help.  The other man's smile widened.

"I felt sure you would." he murmured in satisfaction.

"Yeah!" continued Mouse, still grinning inanely.  "Tell you what – I'm jus' on my way to join them.  Bus is due any minute now."

"How very convenient!"  The stranger pushed his blonde hair back off his face.  Mouse wondered fleetingly why anyone would choose to wear black in a climate like this, but the mantle of warmth descended over him once again, whispering reassurance that the blue-eyed guy was a cool dude, one of the good guys.

"How long does the journey take?" the blonde man was asking.

"'Bout three hours." Mouse caught sight of a ramshackle vehicle clanking its way towards them and stuck out his hand.

"And where exactly are we going?" Mouse threw his rucksack through the doorway, climbed in athletically and extended a hand to help the other man with his luggage.  It was then he realised that his new companion was travelling with just the clothes he stood in.  A frown gathered between Mouse's eyebrows.

"You got no luggage?  Where's your pack, man?"  The blue-eyed man stared up into his face and smiled again.  Suddenly his lack of personal belongings was supremely unimportant.  Any idiot could see that the guy was okay.  He probably had some trouble at the airport.  Yeah, that was it.  Mouse could understand that.  Hey, stuff happens!  He was sure they'd manage with what he'd brought in his pack, he didn't mind sharing.  He turned to the bus driver and bought two tickets to the Bali Barat National Park.  Mouse shouldered his rucksack and moved into the bus.

"What's your name, man?" he looked back over his shoulder.  "They call me Mouse."  The blonde man smiled.

"Pleased to meet you, Mouse." he replied, following the other to the back of the bus. "I'm known as Marcus Torrence."

~oo0oo~

Lucius Malfoy was in an extremely bad temper.  Not only had he wasted an entire day kicking his heels around this godforsaken place waiting for reinforcements who never showed up – arrested by Weasley and his Ministry bloodhounds, for Merlin's sake! – but the private muggle army he had been amassing had suddenly melted into oblivion following a number of spectacular raids by the muggle police.  Something about a drug smuggling ring, apparently.

Lucius gritted his teeth.  Unfortunately, it seemed that his worthless excuse for a son and heir, Draco, had indeed managed to get some information out of Cavendish before Wormtail could silence the muggle.  That was bad enough, but the latest reports placed Draco in the heart of the enemy camp – with Ron and Hermione Weasley, of all people!  The muggle homing device was still working though.  Lucius smiled grimly: his Deatheaters in London had reported that the signal had moved north towards Scotland.  _Trying to get to Hogwarts are you, my boy?  It won't help you to go to ground there, I'm far too strong politically for McGonagall to resist._

All this was extremely annoying, but even more aggravating was Wormtail's failure to answer his messages.  Lucius had expected him to catch up with Draco at the Weasley apartment.  Evidently, he had failed again and was too terrified to check in.  Lucius slammed a savage fist down on the table in barely suppressed fury, shaking the crockery.  _And the coffee in this hotel is crap!_

A slender, brown-skinned hand set a small toppled vase to an upright position.  Lucius looked up as Katia Valentin slid sinuously into a chair, smiling faintly.

"Bad news?" she enquired in a tone just short of insolence.  Lucius let out his frustration in a vicious sigh and shaking his head, drained his cup in one go.  He made a face of disgust.

"Damnit, what _is this stuff?  It's undrinkable."  Katia poured some of the dark aromatic liquid into a cup and sniffed appreciatively._

"It's Colombian – the best coffee in the world," she told him quietly, "and I suggest you keep your mouth shut and your temper under control."  Lucius stared, speechless with anger.  Katia composedly took a sip of her drink.

"It's an excellent blend," she continued conversationally, "and it is scarcely the growers' fault that you pollute it with milk.  Now." Her tone became brisk and businesslike, cutting through his vain attempts to interrupt.

"My spies tracked Potter and the Weasley girl to a rundown house in a slum area of Denpasar." she began. "They raided the place, but they encountered unexpected resistance.  When they returned later, the birds had already flown.  Rumour has it that they are making for the Bali Barat National Park – no one knows why.  My people have Apparated to the perimeter, but must go further on foot.  They are waiting for us to join them before following Potter and his companions into the rainforest."  She took a complacent sip of her coffee.  Lucius was spluttering indignantly.

"_Your_ spies, _your people?  What resources do __you have in this country?" He glared angrily.  "And what kind of hired help are you using if they can't Apparate further than that?"  Katia put down her coffee cup and arched her eyebrows._

"What's the matter, Lucius?" she taunted. "Annoyed that I found them first?  Or did you just get out of bed the wrong side this morning?"  Lucius bit down on his resentment, moved slowly around the table and with a lightening motion, closed steel fingers around the girl's wrist.  Her smooth, deadpan face betrayed a flicker of unease as she flexed her arm to no avail.

"Not this time, my pretty," he murmured between his teeth, "and as for this talk of beds, I regard it as very unfriendly of you to have locked your door last night.  Very unfriendly indeed, particularly considering that without my aid, you would still be languishing in Azkaban."  Katia struggled in vain.

"Scum!" she spat, still trying to fee herself.  "It was down to your incompetence that I was there in the first place!"  Lucius gave a low laugh and increased the pressure on her arm.  The strength enchantment he had cast over himself earlier was reducing her resistance to nothing.

"You have courage, I'll grant you that." he continued, grabbing a handful of her thick, black hair, jerking her head to an impossible angle.  "It would be a pleasure to break your spirit, to make you into a willing slave.  You would find me a most – ah –  inventive bed partner."

"Never!" Katia's voice was muffled, but her eyes were murderous.  Lucius was amused.

"Ah, but I'm forgetting – " his eyes glittered with malice.  "Sirius Black got there first, didn't he?  Oh, yes – I've done a little research into your past record, my pretty.  It wasn't business that made you sleep with him, was it?  You didn't need any reason to climb into _his bed, did you?  You were only too happy to have him between your legs.  He humbled you.  He tamed your wild spirit, bested your fierce temper.  He made you gentle, pliant.  __He made you love him."_

"That's not true!" she shrieked, struggling wildly.

"And then he betrayed you, left you, to return to Potter and the rest of his benighted crew."  Lucius was grinning now, enjoying himself hugely. "He dropped you like a hot brick once he discovered what you really are.  Far from luring him over to the Dark Side, you lost your own direction.  And you've never got over him."  He laughed nastily.  "Was he good in bed, Katia?"  He shook her roughly by the shoulders.  "Did his loving make you moan and thrash in the throes of passion? Make you feel truly alive for once in your life?  Such a shame you couldn't hold on to him."  Lucius shook his head in feigned sympathy.

"But I don't mind." he continued, still holding her, one hand starting to wander. "I'm not fussy about my partner's track-record, just so long as she's …"  

There was a sudden explosion.  Lucius found himself flat on his back ten feet away with the breath knocked from his body.  Katia approached him, breathing heavily and rubbing her wrist where a ring of bruises was already beginning to form.  Lucius stared at her, mouth opening and closing like a fish as he gasped for air.

"If you ever touch me again," she told him with dreadful finality, "you will die."  She took a shuddering breath and abruptly Disapparated.

~oo0oo~

"Guru, the sun's sinking and we're pretty much all in.  Shouldn't we make some kind of camp?  Get some rest, at least for a couple of hours?"  Sirius had moved up the row from the rear to suggest some kind of a break.

Mercifully, their route had not taken them into swampland, but through primary rainforest.  Here the canopy was so thick that little undergrowth could survive.  As a consequence, the going was not particularly difficult and they were largely protected from direct sunlight, but the humidity was one hundred per cent and the air was stock still.  They had been walking for the majority of the day, and Ginny was beginning to show signs of exhaustion.

Guru did not slacken his pace, but he raised his head and sniffed.

"We must keep walking until sundown." he replied implacably.  "If we bivouac here we will run the risk of predators.  Also, we are too near standing water.  We must climb, get higher above the water table.  Then it will be safe to rest."  He turned to observe his party of travellers – Harry, unruly hair plastered to his head, glasses constantly slipping down his nose, holding a hand out to help Ginny, frail and grey-faced with fatigue, the arms of her teeshirt damp with perspiration.  Following in their footsteps were his daughter, her braided silver hair falling out of its restraints, with Fred Weasley at her elbow, pausing occasionally to wipe the sweat out of his eyes, holding out a hand to assist her whenever necessary.  Guru nodded, a faint smile curving his lips.

"It is hard going for those who aren't used to it." he replied more gently.  He looked up at Sirius.  "We should be free of the immediate mosquito zone in about another hour, but the lie of the land will soon become steeper.  It will not be easy."

Guru was right.  By sunset, Sirius was wheezing like an octogenarian.  As he turned to haul Harry up a steep incline, he felt his knees give way and only just managed to hang on.  Together they spent the last of their strength helping the two women to the top.  Syrinx was, if possible, paler than ever, her breath rasping in her throat, Ginny all but collapsed.  Fred brought up the rear, checking diligently for any sign of pursuit, and negotiated the ascent under his own steam.  Sirius shook his head.  This was the man Tantalus Brown had described as 'unstable'!

Guru was breathing heavily.  He stood, his back bent, leaning his hands upon his knees while he sucked in great lungfuls of air.  Sirius really had to hand it to him.  The man was seventy if he was a day, and he had knocked spots of all of them, including the fit twenty-somethings.

"We should be able to find somewhere suitable to rest for a few hours now." he replied at length, glancing at Syrinx.  She nodded.

"There is a dry cave a little way to the east." she pointed, aiming her sightless eyes to her left.  "There is also a spring of clean water."  Harry dusted down his filthy jeans.

"Well," he sighed, "at least we're above the canopy now.  That should make it a little cooler."  Guru snorted.

"We'll get a reasonable night's sleep as a result," he said, "but we'll be back down in the rainforest tomorrow, so don't get used to it!"

Gratefully, the group stumbled along a mainly level path for another half-mile or so, then Sirius stopped, pushed aside some scrubby undergrowth, and disappeared into a fissure in the rock.  He looked out straight at Syrinx.

"Is this what you mean?" he asked.  She aimed her empty eyes in his direction and nodded, smiling.

"That is exactly what I mean." she replied, smiling.  Sirius stared, shaking his head in bewilderment at her unerring abilities.

A little while later, Ginny was stirring a cauldron of soup over a small campfire.  She had rallied somewhat after the sun had gone down and had argued fiercely with Fred over the necessity of a cooking fire.

"Smoke up here is as good a way of advertising our presence as a Conflagration curse." he argued.  "Not only do we run the risk of being pinpointed by the Dark Side, we're breaking muggle law by wandering in this land without an appointed guide.  The last thing we want is to excite the interest of the Forest Rangers – they'll arrest us as poachers!"  Ginny shook her head vehemently.

"Yes, I know all that, Fred," she replied, "But the tinder we've gathered is so dry, it'll make no smoke at all.  Trust me."  The general opinion was with Ginny, largely due to the fact that a hot meal was an irresistible lure after such a long day's travelling.  However, to Fred's surprise, even Syrinx weighed in behind her fellow witch.  Sighing, he gave way.

It seemed as though Ginny was right.  The fire lasted long enough for her to reconstitute and heat through a muggle packet of dehydrated vegetable soup with dried, salted meat added to give it more sticking power.  Accompanied by flat, unleavened bread, the meal was consumed ravenously despite its less than gourmet flavour.

Harry wandered over to where Ginny was sitting on the outskirts of the party, slowly finishing her bread.

"Don't stare." he said quietly, sitting down next to her.  She flushed, but stood her ground.

"I know," she said mildly, "But I've never seen Fred like this before."  Harry focussed on his old friend, deep in quiet conversation with the enigmatic Syrinx, and smiled gently.

"They're holding hands." he murmured.  Ginny poked him lightly in the ribs.

"Now who's staring?" she riposted.

"A mere glance." he replied equably, sliding an arm round her shoulders.

Fred stroked the pale, slender fingers held lightly in his own much bigger hand, resisting the urge to bring them to his lips.  She was so delicate he feared he would crush her.  A delighted giggle escaped the young girl next to him.

"What?" he asked.  She gave him an amused smile.

"You." she replied. "You're just so – reverent."

"I have every cause to be." he retorted.  "Don't I?"  

"Hmmm." She tilted her head to one side thoughtfully.  "Perhaps, although I'd really rather be treated as a normal person."  Fred raised serious eyes to her face.

"But Syrinx, you're _not_ a normal person."

"Only in one area, Fred."

"It's a pretty big area, if you don't mind me saying so."  The girl paused.  Fred could feel her thoughts turning around in her head.

"The number of true Seers throughout magical history can be numbered on the fingers of one hand." she said pensively.  "It has been nearly five hundred years since the last Seer died."

"Five hundred years!" Fred was impressed, then he smiled impishly.  "I guess that puts dear old Prof. Trelawney out in the cold, huh?"  He forgot that Syrinx had never been to Hogwarts, but strangely she seemed to understand him.

"Your Professor Trelawney has a sensitivity, no more, to the workings of the future." Syrinx said.  Fred frowned.

"What do you know about her?"  The pale girl smiled.

"Only what is in your mind." she replied equably.  "You remember her very clearly – I can see her now.  Floating scarves, firelight, huge spectacles – like some enormous insect."  Fred stared.

"How'd you do that?" she shrugged.

"We are – connected." she told him.  "You had a taste of it yesterday when we first met."  Fred shook his head in bewilderment.

"I don't understand."  Syrinx stroked his hand soothingly.

"You will," she told him, "once you get a handle on your own powers."  She was unconsciously adopting his modes of speech, he noticed.  Was this because she could see into his mind so easily?

Syrinx was shaking her head.

"I can't see into your mind, not as such." she replied to a question he hadn't even asked.  Fred was beginning to feel more and more at sea.  The gentle, persistent stroking of her fingers gradually calmed him.  The young girl's face changed.

"Fred, I am truly blind." she told him seriously.  "My eyes are an organic disaster area, a medical one-off.  But nevertheless, I have sight."  Fred gnawed his upper lip.

"You said this once before," he remarked.  "And I didn't understand it then.  Syrinx, if you can't see, you can't see.  And, forgive me, but there is no way your eyes are ever going to function normally."  He smiled tenderly at the girl.  Unerringly, she directed her sightless gaze to his face and smiled in return.

"That, my dear, is stating the obvious." she replied, her gentle tone taking the sting out of her words.  "But I didn't claim to be able to see – I said that I have sight."  She sighed and grasped his hand tightly.

"The people you call seers – like your Professor Trelawney," she began, "their visions of the future are imprecise, sporadic, unreliable – yes?"  Fred agreed.  Syrinx nodded.

"My powers are greater," she replied, "as an elephant is greater than an ant.  The sheer size of the elephant is lost on the ant, because it cannot conceive of such immensity."  She smiled. "My gift is of that nature."  

She seemed to be gazing out into the rapidly darkening forest, and her words came crawling up over the ground into Fred's ears.

"I see the future – all the time." she said calmly.  "I have awareness as far ahead as I wish to look.  I can see several timelines at one moment.  I can isolate events that tip the balance from one timeline to the next.  Whole civilisations can rise or fall on my knowledge of the future – or of any number of potential futures.

"I can also see the past," she continued, "as if it were a long, long carpet spreading out behind me.  I can see many almost-events and their consequences, and also the imprint of my own knowledge on what has already been.  Mercifully, my contribution has so far been very small." She smiled and turned to Fred.

"That is how I can see you," she told him.  "How I know where you are, what you are doing, without any physical sight."

"You see me through your prescience of the future – yes, of course!"  Fred's eyes blazed as he beheld the woman next to him, so small and frail, so vulnerable, but with the power to topple empires.  He paused to let the ramifications of this new knowledge sink in, then he turned to look at her again, fully aware that she knew what his next question would be before he asked it.  She smiled affectionately as she caught up with his reasoning, and reached for his other hand.

"Yes, Fred." she replied.  "I knew the exact moment of your arrival in my life, and I have known it for many years.  I know that we are destined to remain together and to love each other for as long as we both live, and I also know that despite your contempt for the practice of Divination, you have a very powerful inner eye which will develop, I promise, by your close association with me."

Harry nudged Ginny who was about to fall asleep.

"I think they're about to announce their engagement." he whispered wickedly.

"Harry!" she complained, but Harry's eyes had swung over her shoulder and widened in alarm.

"Shit!" he muttered succinctly, springing to his feet as quickly as his abused and aching muscles would let him.  A thin spiral of smoke was rising into the night air from the remains of their cooking fire.  Harry doused it quickly, but the damage had already been done.

"I thought you made sure the tinder was bone dry!" accused Fred angrily, coming over to see what the fuss was about.  Harry turned an apologetic face to him.

"It was, Fred," he replied with chagrin.  "A stray spark must have escaped when I put it out earlier.  Unfortunately, it caught on the green stuff nearby."  Fred made a disgusted sound.  

Fortunately, he didn't say 'I told you so' or any variant of it.  Half-sitting, half lying watching Fred argue with Harry, Ginny was quite sure she would have been forced to strangle him if he had.  If she could just manage to drag herself off this nice comfortable groundsheet.  Her eyelids drooped, her sore muscles relaxed.  

Smiling, Harry tucked a blanket around her exhausted body and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.  He was about to turn in himself when he heard the crackle of dry undergrowth and looked up to see Sirius prowling restlessly around the camp.

"What's up?" Harry asked quietly, so as not to disturb Ginny.  Sirius stood with his hands on his hips, looking up at the full moon and frowning.  He shook his head.

"I'm not sure, Harry." he began.  "Look, you've been in some wild, out-of-the-way places in your life.  You know when you're unsure of your surroundings, you get that kind of – heightened awareness?  When your antennae get twitchy, but there's nothing you can pin down?"  Harry nodded.

"I know it well." he replied then raised his eyebrows.  "Feeling jumpy, Sirius?"  His godfather smiled grimly.

"Too right." he agreed.  He sighed and looked about him into the blackness.  "There's something strange about this place – something that spooks me.  I don't know what or where it is, but one thing I do know is that I'm not going to get any sleep tonight."  He turned to Harry with a gentle smile.

"Let me keep watch." he asked.  "Lying down gazing at the moon isn't going to help me much.  I may as well try to isolate what's disturbing my senses so badly."  He paused to sniff the air then shook his head.  The two men stood gazing up at the clear sky, each mentally charting the unfamiliar constellations.  Sirius sighed.

"It's on nights like this that I remember." he murmured.  "All those years ago – Moony, Prongs and Padfoot – and Wormtail, of course.  He wasn't evil then, just – inadequate, I guess.  We were all too young to understand, too careless of ourselves and of each other.  Holding our impending adulthood in check for just a little while longer while we frolicked in the woods.  And now I'm the last."  He sighed again and looked at Harry.

"I still miss Remus." he said sadly.  "He was the closest thing I had to a brother.  He died in my arms, you know?"  Harry nodded gravely.  The older man turned back to the eternal skies for an instant then came back down to earth.  The moment was over.

"I'll do a bit of recce, I think." he said, squinting out into the darkness.  "I've brought a muggle torch – I hope it works!"

~oo0oo~


	13. Through a Glass Darkly

Disclaimer:  _This story is written for the purposes of my own amusement and, hopefully, that of my readers, and no profit of any kind is being generated by it or by either of its prequels.  All characters and history belong to J.K. Rowling and to whomsoever she has licensed her creations at the present time.  I own the plot and the odd original character, nothing else._

**_Sorcerors' Endgame_** A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Penpusher Sequel to "By the Pricking of My Thumbs" 

**Chapter Twelve: Through a Glass Darkly**

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_"Reducto!"_  MacNair threw the curse at a tall tree standing in his way.  It shuddered through the whole of its frame then with a groaning, rending sound, toppled thunderously to the forest floor, opening a temporary gap in the canopy.  Sunlight poured in.  Lucius eyed the destruction with approval.

"Good show." he said briefly.  "I must say, MacNair, when it comes to curses, you can knock Pettigrew into a cocked hat.  He has a distressing tendency to trip over his own feet in a crisis."  MacNair nodded, his grim mouth betraying a faint curve of satisfaction.  A man of few words, his association with Lucius was fairly recent but all the stronger for MacNair's solid conviction that Harry Potter had to be stopped.  He'd heard enough from his Ministry sources to convince him that if Potter succeeded in his goal, it was only a matter of time before the Dark Forces would lose their stranglehold on the magical world.  MacNair ground his teeth; they would just have to make very sure that Potter and the Weasley girl never returned from Bali, wouldn't they?

"What the …?"  MacNair heard Lucius splutter in surprise.  His eyes widened as he watched another member of their team approach the fallen tree, kneel at its side and extend a hand almost in benediction to the smashed and broken trunk.

"Miss Valentin!" Lucius moved into view, eyes snapping with irritation.  "You're on point – get back what you were doing!"  The girl rose reluctantly, shaking her head.  The face she turned to Lucius was smooth and expressionless as usual, but her eyes were wary.  She gazed thoughtfully at the two wizards, then turned to MacNair.

"Don't do this again." her voice was low.  MacNair made a sound of disgust and turned away.  Lucius frowned.

"Miss Valentin," he began with exaggerated patience, "we are here to pursue Harry Potter, to capture him and his fellow travellers, and to make sure that none of them ever sees the light of day again.  We are not on a Sunday School nature walk!  Now, cease this sentimental maundering and do your job!"  Katia stood her ground, ignoring him and addressing herself to MacNair.

"Take heed." she replied, outwardly composed but the urgency of her tone betraying an inner unease.  "There is a power here; a very great force, so great that my abilities are but a drop in the ocean by comparison.  It is a foolish thing to use magic in this area.  I sense a displeasure, almost an anger at what you have done."  MacNair looked at Lucius, unsure as to how to respond.  Lucius glared at the girl.

"Fairytales!" he spat scornfully.  "Moonshine meant to rattle us.  Getting a little of your own back after I bested you so thoroughly, eh?"  He exchanged an insinuating grin with MacNair.  Katia's eyes flashed.

"You did not best me!" she hissed.  "When you couldn't get the better of me by force, you used an enchantment.  You enhanced your puny physical strength to a level at which you could hold me, a mere weak woman, at bay.  A very cheap trick, but then you are worth nothing better!"  

"However much you protest, my dear, it worked!"  Lucius was back on balance now, grinning openly and insolently.  Irritation contorted the girl's sultry features and she shook her head.

"I gave you the warning honestly," she said, "now listen to me: I have spent most of my life in forests and swampland.  I know the signs and the seasons, the rhythms and the rhymes of these places, and _this one is different_.  If you value your lives, use no more magic."  But MacNair's attention had been distracted.  Abruptly he stiffened, pointing a finger into the distance.

"Malfoy."  he said without turning.  Lucius followed his line of sight and made a sound of deep contentment.

"Smoke!" he breathed, smiling broadly.  "For once, Potter has made a mistake!  _Attention!_"  He turned to the rest of his party, which consisted, in addition to themselves, of two Deatheaters and three muggle heavies who were beginning to wonder exactly what they had got themselves into.

"Potter has given himself away." he said. "Katia, take a reading on their position and plot a route."  Katia did not move.  Lucius scowled.

"Oh, very well then, MacNair – you do it."  Impassively, the large, dark man muttered under his breath, drawing carefully with the tip of his wand.  At once a glowing map appeared in the air, automatically mapping out a route to intercept the party ahead of them.

"Excellent!" said Lucius exultantly.  "If we keep walking through the night, we'll be practically on top of them by morning.  All right, then everyone – prepare to move out!"  There was a certain amount of protest, particularly from the muggles who were all prepared to bed down for the night.  Grumbling, wizards and muggles re-stowed their gear and set to with a very bad grace.  All except Katia.

She stood watching the others prepare to move out under the leadership of MacNair, making no attempt to join them.  Finally, when the stragglers were just about to disappear into the forest, she bent to retrieve her pack.  Swiftly, she moved to the front once more, shouldered MacNair out of her way, and continued to trailblaze through the forest, pushing aside the small amount of intrusive vegetation, skirting large trees and copses.  Behind her, MacNair incessantly practised his destructive curses to relieve the boredom of the journey.  Katia winced as the vibrations around her became more and more disturbed.

~oo0oo~

"The Holy Place is not far now.  I can feel its power."  Syrinx concentrated, a small frown gathering between her sightless eyes.  Guru nodded.

"We will bivouac here for the night.  Some water and a light meal would be very welcome." he replied, immediately beginning to forage for firewood.  As the others followed suit, Fred crouched down beside the sightless girl and took her hand.

"What is it?" he asked softly.  She gave a small smile and shook her head.

"Syrinx, please." he urged.  "You told me my powers were strong.  Don't shake my faith in them already.  Come on, I can feel what you're thinking.  Not very clearly, mind, but the gist of it's coming over.  You're disturbed by something."  The girl sighed.

"The emanations from the Holy Place, they are – confused." she began, wrinkling her forehead in an effort to understand.  "I can see many timelines, many outcomes.  It's difficult to decide which is the most likely."  The girl stared up at him.  Once again, Fred found it difficult to believe in her blindness.

"It's something like static on a muggle radio – do you know what I mean?"  Fred nodded vigorously and gave a quirky smile.

"Dad used to play around with muggle artefacts for years before the Ministry relaxed the rules enough to allow a little interaction." he said in affectionate memory.  The girl returned his smile.

"My vision is clouded." she explained.  "There is – interference of some kind.  The Balance has been out of alignment since Harry first set foot on Bali, but this is something different.  It's a slow burn, a mounting impatience."  She sighed in defeat and shrugged apologetically.  "Even I have my limitations."  Fred smiled, taking her other hand in his.

"They are very few and far between," he replied gallantly, "and, close to perfection as I am myself, I would find it difficult to live with someone who was totally flawless!"  

"It's just as well then." the girl replied gravely, her eyes twinkling.  Fred chuckled.

"Do you know," he began conversationally, stroking her hand, "if anyone had told me a week ago that I would travel to the other side of the world to meet an extraordinary woman who knew my whole life – past, present and future – I would have told them to pull the other one and listen for the bells."  She reached forward to smooth his over-long red-gold hair away from his face without comment.  His eyes were serious.

"You told me I was your destiny."  Her hand lingered on his cheek.

"That I have known for many years now." she replied solemnly.  "My prescience told me my own future would become intertwined with that of a man whose own origins were very far from my home.  I didn't exactly know your name and address, but the gist was clear enough."  

"Intertwined, eh?" Fred's smile was warm as he brought her pale hand to his lips.  "I like the sound of that."  Syrinx met his gaze with a glance of her own at once shy and knowing, and returned the smile.

~oo0oo~

"You okay, man?"  Mouse's easy, confident grin broke into Draco's reverie.  He clenched his teeth and smiled awkwardly.

"Never better." he replied, looking behind him for the umpteenth time.  "Uh, Mouse, how do you know where Potter and his friends are heading?" 

"Easy, man!  Their trail ain't exactly hidden, if you get my drift.  In fact, we should be happenin' upon 'em real soon."

"That's great work, Mouse.  Well done."  Draco unconsciously nibbled at a fingernail.  To tell the truth, this place was beginning to spook him.  Unsure exactly about the position of his father's pursuit group, he was equally in the dark as to the exact location Potter's final destination.  He felt trapped, stifled.  Squashed between two highly undesirable situations, like the meat in a sandwich.

"Why do the words 'rock' and 'hard place' come to mind?" he muttered to himself.  Suddenly he froze, listening carefully.  Mouse also stopped walking; his face cracked into a beaming grin.

"It's Harry!" he exclaimed.  Instantly, Draco clamped a hand firmly over the other man's mouth.  Surprised into submission, Mouse glared at his companion.  Draco slowly removed his hand.

"Hey, what you doin', man?  Where's the big problem?"  Draco took a deep breath, his mind working at speed.

"Mouse," he began in a whisper.  "Harry doesn't know I'm following him.  Now, we really have to take this very gently indeed, otherwise he might be startled into attacking us by accident, okay?"

"You mean come in real quiet?  Sure, I dig.  That's okay with me."  The spell was still holding strong, Draco observed with a sigh of relief.  

Carefully, he took the lead, using the woodcraft he had learned as a child to conceal his presence rather than employing a camouflage charm.  Strangely, Draco felt an inexplicable disinclination to cast any kind of spell in this place.  His antennae were twitching, picking up faint traces of dark magick, but it was the curious slumbering impatience he could feel deep within the very fabric of the forest that unsettled him most.

The sound of quiet voices alerted him to the presence of strangers ahead.  Glaring meaningfully at Mouse, and placing a finger firmly against closed lips, Draco peered carefully through a screen of undergrowth.

A little way distant from the others, Harry stood gazing sightlessly out into the forest.  Despite the fatigue of the long journey, he felt no desire for rest.  His brain was spiralling, working overtime, backwards and forwards on itself in a kind of fugue.  _Dumbledore betrayed us_._  He could have killed Voldemort.  He let him live to go on to kill Cho and countless others._  He shook his head violently.

"Harry, are you okay?"  Ginny's soft voice broke into his reverie.  "Would you like some tea?"

"No!" said much too loudly.  She flinched then gave him a puzzled glance.  He forced himself to relax, taking a deep breath

"I'm sorry," he said, with an ironic smile.  "I didn't mean to shout at you.  I'm just tired, I guess."  He sighed and glanced once more into the forest.

"Can you talk about it?"  Ginny wasn't buying, not at all.  He turned to her, taking her hands in his.

"Not yet." he replied quietly.  She nodded wordlessly, standing in silence with him for a few moments longer.

"Are you sure about that tea?" she asked in a small voice.  He nodded without looking at her.

"Thanks for asking, but no."  She gave a soundless sigh and walked away, pausing to gaze up at the moon and the unfamiliar stars.  

Draco watched silently through the curtain of brush as the moonlight fell across the contours of her face.  The pale radiance made her skin seem almost translucent; Draco could smell her perfume, feel her skin against his like a whisper of silk.

And he was caught.

~oo0oo~

_It'll be sunset in a couple of hours._  Sirius strolled aimlessly around the clearing, supposedly keeping watch.  His eyes fell upon Fred deep in conversation with Syrinx.  He snorted quietly to himself: _no sense in interrupting _that_ little tete a tete.  Odd thing to happen to Fred, of all people.  I really wouldn't have tagged him as the type to suffer from 'love at first sight'._  

Sirius sighed, only partly out of fatigue, and looked over to where Harry was standing on the edge of the clearing.  _Now, anyone with even the remotest sensitivity to body language could see that boy wants to be alone.  What's eating him, I wonder?  Even Ginny's failed to bring him out of it._  Sirius watched the slender, red-haired girl walk slowly in the opposite direction until he lost sight of her in the bushes.  He frowned; she ought not to be out of range with night coming on.  Walking swiftly towards her, he noticed Guru sitting alone, his eyes closed, his expression serene.  Oddly calmed by the prospect, Sirius stood for a moment watching the holy man in prayer, then started to move away.

"If you wish for conversation, Sirius, I will only be a minute or two longer." Sirius jumped at the sound, then turned to Guru with a smile.

"You have as much second sight as your daughter." he told him.  Guru shook his head.

"Not even close." he responded, his eyes still shut.

A few minutes later, Guru rose from the ground, dusted off his robes and beckoned to Sirius.

"You are restless." he told him without preamble.  Sirius gave him a hard stare.  Guru smiled.

"I do not have my daughter's gift, thank Merlin," he continued, "but I am sensitive to the emotions broadcast by others in my immediate vicinity.  I'm what muggles would probably call an Empath."  He shook his head with a faint smile.

"They insist on trying to force magic to conform to their rules." he said ruefully.  "They cannot accept that there are more things on this earth than can be explained by their science."  Sirius nodded in agreement.

"I agree." he replied.  "In fact, I can say that I have met a number of very talented wizards who deny that they have any special powers.  They prefer to believe in the powers of 'luck' or 'probability'.  When push comes to shove, none of their muggle scientists can explain why certain parts of this planet are awash with floodwater, while others labour under impossible drought conditions, or indeed why a single coin should fall on its face rather than its tail."  Guru was nodding.

"Very true," he agreed.  "My daughter's sight, or the absence of it, was a case in point." He smiled reminiscently.  "When she was born, an enthusiastic young surgeon with a great future ahead of him – muggle, of course – became very interested in my baby daughter's problems.  He recommended a series of operations that, if successful, would give her a 50% chance of some peripheral vision in one eye.  I refused.  He accused me of bad parenthood.  I had no defence to make."  Guru sighed.  "If I had told him the truth – that my daughter has a very powerful inner eye, and that to possess outer sight would very quickly drive her insane – he would immediately have labelled me as deranged.  He certainly would never have believed that there are other ways to see than merely using one's eyes."  

"What happened to him?  The muggle surgeon, I mean."  Sirius was intrigued.  Guru shrugged.

"The muggle authorities agreed with his assessment of the situation." he replied.  "They seemed to think it worthwhile to subject a baby to months of operations, disfigurement and pain merely to give her some vague semblance of organic sight.  They put together powers to take Syrinx away from me."  Guru shrugged.  "She and I simply – disappeared."  Sirius smiled.

"You're on no muggle or wizard database that I know of.  I checked."  Guru nodded.

"Records concerning either of us just seem to – vanish without trace.  It's very confusing.  For others, I mean."  His tranquil smile did not falter one millimetre.

"I loved my wife very much." he began suddenly.  "Throughout my life, I had taken it for granted that marriage was out of the question.  My calling was too exposed, too risky a vocation to share with a wife and family, but from the moment I saw Pandora, I knew that we would never be parted."  He shook his head wistfully in remembrance.

"She was beautiful, intelligent and a witch," he said, "and to my surprise, she felt just as strongly, just as quickly, for me.  We married a matter of weeks after our first meeting, and within a month she came to me to tell me about the daughter she was carrying.  I was amazed."  Guru turned to Sirius.

"I was surprised," he continued, "but it wasn't just the swiftness of the conception.  Pandora looked different.  She was – somehow luminous."  He broke off, shaking his head.

"I can't explain it any better than that." he said. "Her skin was radiant, her eyes glowed, the little magic she allowed herself to practise was effortlessly easy.  It became clear, to me at least, that she had formed a close bonding with the unborn child.  Together, their magic was incredibly powerful."  He stopped speaking for a moment, lost in his story.

"She died," his voice was a whisper, "giving life to our daughter."

"I'm sorry." Sirius said haltingly, breaking the silence that followed.

"Mmm? Oh, I see!"  Guru smiled at Sirius.  "No – I was not asking for your sympathy, although it is much appreciated.  I am an old man, Sirius, and old men tend to live in the past."  He sighed.

"I truly believe that Pandora knew she was going to die," he continued,  "and she passed her formidable powers to her daughter, strengthening what was already a very potent talent.  When Syrinx was born blind, I felt no surprise: where a great gift is given, something is always withheld."  He looked Sirius straight in the eyes.

"I am grateful it was merely one of her outer senses and not something more important."  Sirius stared.

"Hang on a moment, Guru." he protested.  "Blindness is a very great affliction …"  Guru held up his hand.

"Firstly," he began gently, "Syrinx is not blind; her knowledge of the future gives her a detailed comprehension of current and future events that rivals anything you or I could boast with out 'normal' sight.  Secondly, having spent my life in a vocation that nearly robbed me of the inestimable joys of a wife and family, I am grateful that my daughter's talents did not deny her that privilege."  The holy man smiled at Sirius in sympathy.

"Your friend is not mistaken." he said quietly.  "Destiny had marked him out for my daughter as surely as if he had been born and bred here on Bali."  Sirius was puzzled.

"How did you know …?"

"That you were uneasy about the relationship between your friend and my daughter?"  Guru smiled.  "I told you – I am an Empath.  Please rest easy, Sirius.  Fred Weasley has come home.  He has led an uncertain life; my daughter will give him the stability he craves, and in return he will protect her from those who would use her talents to the detriment of the world."  He was silent.

~oo0oo~

Ginny bit her lip trying hard not to cry.  She did not resent Harry for being unable to discuss his worries with her – Merlin knew, she had enough secrets herself to understand the inability to confide in _anyone_, let alone someone whose good opinion she wanted to retain.  She just wished she were closer to Harry, close enough for him to open to her completely.

Despairing, she gazed up at the moon in its fullness, willing it to somehow help her overcome her present problems.  She was oblivious of the stealthy movement in the undergrowth by her side.  Swiftly, a hand clamped firmly over her mouth, an arm hooked around her neck and she was dragged unceremoniously off the path and into the concealing brush.

Almost immediately, she was set on her feet and the hand removed.  She stared angrily at her abductor and gasped in astonishment.

"Draco!" she exclaimed.  "What in Merlin's name are you doing here?"  His eyes on her were curiously intense, but his mouth lifted in the old sardonic smile she remembered so well.

"My friend here said he'd take me on a tour of downtown Denpasar." he drawled sarcastically.  "However, we must have taken a wrong turn somewhere.  Could you direct me to the Three Mages' Karaoke Bar?"  Ginny turned swiftly to find Mouse grinning inanely at her.

"Hi Ginny!" he said.  "How's things wid you?"

"Mouse?" she whispered in astonishment.  "What the – what are you doing here with him?  Why are you going along with this?  You're supposed to protect me!"  Mouse smiled an even wider smile.

"Sho' I's protectin' you, Ginny, but you don' need protectin' here.  Marcus, he's one of the good guys!"  Ginny frowned, turning furious eyes on Draco.

"Imperius?" she spat contemptuously.  Draco shook his head; he seemed somewhat embarrassed.

"Er, no, actually." he admitted.  "I'm afraid I can't do that one."  Ginny snorted indelicately.

"A likely tale."

"No, really." he protested.  "It's an All Will be Well charm.  Inferior to Imperius, of course, but it's the best I can manage after my Hogwarts education."  Belatedly realising the precariousness of her situation, Ginny quickly went for her wand, only to find her arm held tightly in a vice-like grip.

"Easy, easy." murmured Draco, strong fingers depressing a pressure point.  Ginny's hand opened; he caught her wand and pocketed it swiftly.  She bared her teeth in frustration.

"You've come after Harry, haven't you?" she whispered.  "I was right about you after all; no principles whatsoever.  With all your damnable pride in your history, the Malfoy family honour – pah!  Malfoy family claptrap!"  She glared at him.

"I helped you escape from your father!" she continued angrily.  "I was the one who sent Dobby – even you can't be stupid enough not to have worked that out.  I told you then – all debts are paid: a life for a life."  Draco dropped his gaze.

"If only it were that simple." he murmured softly, shaking his head.

Ginny was nonplussed.  By rights, Draco should have at least stunned her and then hidden her body.  Harry was almost guaranteed to come looking for her at some stage.  Draco could then take him out at leisure and go home with no one else the wiser.  Wiping Mouse's mind of the incident would be simplicity itself.  So why was he hesitating?  She shook her head.

"I'm sorry." she said, realising that Draco had been speaking. "I wasn't listening properly."  Draco sighed in an exaggerated fashion.

"Story of my life," he complained, "women never listen to me.  I told you, I haven't come after Harry.  In fact, I have no ill intentions towards anyone in your party."

"And you expect me to believe that?" she sneered, "After what happened the last time we met?"  Draco had the grace to look slightly shamefaced.

"Ginny, I …" he began, but she overrode him in her anger.

"Don't talk to me!" she told him. "How dare you come near me after what you did?  You're lower than a slug – do you know that?  No one with any pretensions to anything better would dabble in that kind of magic!"

Draco's cool exterior was starting to crack.  He had anticipated having no further dealings with this girl, no contact, no conversation, no interaction, period.  He would suffer in lonely isolation and bear his pain and humiliation like a Malfoy.  However, try as he might, one sight of her and he found himself doing exactly the opposite.  She was so close, close enough to touch; separation from her was a torment, but being near her was worse.

"Listen Weasley!" he snarled, "If I could cheerfully plot both your demise and that of your lover, I would do so.  If I could destroy your entire family without a second thought, I'd do it.  If I could hate you, I'd embrace the feeling with gratitude.  I can't do any of these things.  They are as impossible for me as – as becoming a Gryffindor!"  She stared at him, puzzlement dawning beneath her anger.  He shook his head, turning from her and sighing in deep frustration from several sources at once.

"The last time we met, I failed to ensnare you in a very complex enchantment." he drawled, trying to regain his sang-froid.  "Suffice it to say that it backfired on me."  

Ginny's eyes widened as she absorbed the full import of this.

"So you fell in love …"  Draco flinched visibly.

"Okay, okay, Weasley, you don't have to say it out loud." he sighed in exasperation.  "The long-term effects have been catastrophic enough, I assure you, without stating the obvious."  

Ginny could not remember the last time she had been so aghast, so completely at sea.  She stared at him, her jaw slack, her eyebrows practically meeting her hairline.  Draco glared back, and suddenly the fatigue and strain of the past few weeks caught up with him.  His eyes rolled, he sagged limply and he would have collapsed if Ginny's arms had not automatically outstretched to catch him before he fell.  Draco leaned his head on her shoulder, biting back waves of nausea.  _I will not throw up over her!_  _I am humiliated enough as it stands, any more would be unbearable!_  He gritted his teeth, forcing his vision to stabilise.  As the world came back into focus, he raised his head.

In retrospect, he was unsure whether to blame it on his temporary loss of composure, the emotional effects of having lived on a knife-edge for far too long, or simply his body's response to that cursed enchantment.  Whatever the cause, he was suddenly far too aware of the Weasley girl's close proximity; the gentle strength of her hands, the fragrance of her hair, the softness of her skin against his cheek, the lines of her back through the thin cotton shirt.  These things flooded into Draco with overwhelming intensity, forcing an all too physical reaction from him.  Before he could get a grip on himself, he was nuzzling her neck, mouth wet against her skin, lips tracing the tendons in her neck, moving upwards, onwards.  Ginny struggled, trying to push him away. 

"Draco." she warned, her face twisting with effort. "Draco, stop!"  He paid no attention.  He was kissing her now, slowly, passionately, as though his life had been spent waiting for this, the culmination of his existence.  And somewhere deep in the cold heart of Draco Malfoy, a hunger was satisfied, a thirst slaked, a desire assuaged.  

Then he yelled in pain.  Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Ginny shoved him away from her, hard.  

"Hell's teeth – what are you, some kind of vampire?" Draco put a hand to his bitten lip and glared at her with frustration.  

"Bitch!" he muttered furiously.  Ginny swiped blood from her mouth with the back of her hand and snarled back at him.

"Is this some kind of sick joke?"  Draco felt hollow, cold; empty once again.  He pulled a ragged black silk handkerchief from of his pocket and dabbed at the oozing cut.  Shaking his head, he struggled hard for control.

"No joke, Weasley," he replied ironically, "at least, not for me."  She stared, speechless with anger.

"So you think you can just waltz into this place and ravish me at your leisure?"  Draco raised a sardonic eyebrow, mask now firmly back in place.

"Did I miss something?" he asked politely. "I'm sorry to be dense, but I wasn't aware you had let me get that far."  Ginny's rage exploded.  She drew back her hand and dealt him a slap around the face that rattled his teeth.  Draco absorbed the pain, staring at the ground, and slowly raised eyes that could neither hide nor master his inner desolation.

"I'm sorry." he whispered.

At once, Ginny was assailed by a frightening mixture of emotions.  Anger, resentment and humiliation were top of the heap, closely followed by indignation tempered with more than a little fear.  However, she was reluctant to probe deeper into her own feelings for fear of what she might find.  Pity for Draco's plight was definitely a factor, but another emotion, undefined but significant was giving her pause.

"Ginny?  Ginny, where are you?  It's getting late, you shouldn't be out of sight."  Harry's faint call was getting louder.  Suddenly aware of how quickly the sun had set, Ginny glanced around her, startled at the sudden darkness.  She opened her mouth, the breath catching in her throat as Draco made a convulsive move towards her, checking himself at the last moment.

"Don't …" he whispered, but it was too late; Ginny had had enough.  Disturbed, humiliated, rattled beyond endurance, she filled her singer-trained lungs with air and screamed.  Both she and Draco visibly ducked as Harry hurled himself through the brushwood into the copse.  Pausing to brush the leaves from his face, Harry's eyes focussed, then narrowed.

"_Malfoy!_" he hissed between his teeth, going for his wand.  Abruptly a thin cry echoed through the woodland.

"No!  Please, for your own safety, _no magic!_"  The intervention was timely.  Harry swallowed on a dry throat, forcing his hand away from his sleeve.  He glanced uncertainly and almost disbelievingly at Ginny.  Her eyes were wide, the pupils dilated.  She was compulsively rubbing her lips.  Her eyes met his and he could read the guilt in them.  He turned back to Draco, murder in his heart.

But Draco wasn't there – at least, not quite.  His body seemed to be thinning out, expanding, becoming translucent.  Suddenly the hazy form coalesced into something quite different; a huge black and silver snake towered before them, lazily flicking its forked tongue as it weaved its head back and forth, never taking its eyes off Harry.

"_Shit!_" said a voice close to Harry's ear.  He turned his head to see Fred, eyes as wide as saucers, staring mesmerised at the apparition.  Sirius stood at Harry's other elbow, equally at a loss.

"What now, Harry?" he asked.  Ginny's gasp was enough to alert him.  Harry was no longer there.  In his place was a huge, beady-eyed, golden lion.

"What the …?"  Fred backed away quickly, grabbing Ginny by the arm.  Sirius didn't need telling.  The two creatures circled each other warily, sizing each other up for battle.  Then finally the snake sat back on its coils, eyed the menacing lion confidently and spoke.

_At least,_ thought Sirius, _I assume it's speaking.  Seeing as Harry's the only one around here who understands Parseltongue, it's a bit difficult to tell, but I guess Draco's decided to parley rather than fight.  Let's hope Harry can still understand in lion form!_

Harry was surprised on two counts.  Firstly, he had expected Draco to let loose a volley of Dark Magick on sight, and still didn't understand why he hadn't.  Secondly, he had never once rated his old enemy as Animagus material, so the appearance of the snake was a complete surprise.  Harry himself had transformed in the heat of anger and the process had drained his energy reserves.  He was willing to listen to Draco, if only to use the respite to regroup.  

The Lion Harry growled his assent to parley.  The snake hissed quietly, then began to speak in the slow, sibilant snake language.

"**_I have no quarrel with you, Potter_**," were the surprising first words, "**_and a sorcerous duel in this place would be, to hazard a guess, catastrophic._**"  The Lion growled menacingly then proceeded to answer in _parseltongue_.  Harry may have cooled slightly, but he was no nearer forgiving Draco.

"**_How dare you enter this place?_**" he spat. "**_You are the scum of the earth, beneath my notice, beneath even my contempt!  Your presence offends against everything I hold sacred.  You defile the very ground upon which you stand!_**"

"**_Potter, calm down._**" The snake even had Draco's mannerisms.  "**_You're beginning to sound like some third-rate muggle soap opera.  I had no intention of gatecrashing your little party, I'm after bigger prey._**"

"**_Then why are you here?_**"

"**_I was, er, distracted._**"

"**_By Ginny, yes!  I saw exactly how you were distracted!_**"

"**_Potter, if you had the sense lettuce was given, you'd realise that the Weasley girl was entirely innocent; anything that occurred between us was entirely my own doing._**"  The Snake Draco paused, puzzled; why was he defending her?  The Lion Harry used the other's indecision to leap in again.

"**_So you admit to interfering with her?"_** The Lion roared suddenly, causing the others to shrink away.  Only Syrinx stood her ground.  Draco gave the snake equivalent of a heavy sigh.

 "**_What can I say?_**"  He stared helplessly at the lion.  "**_I came upon you and your companions by mistake.  I should have turned on my heel right then and walked away from you, but instead I looked.  And I saw Ginny._**"  He fell silent.

"**_I think I can imagine what happened next without any further elaboration_**" Harry's words were polite, but his tone was dangerous. "**_The question, Malfoy, is why?_**"  

It took a little while for the Snake Draco to make up his mind to answer, and when he finally spoke, his tone was quiet, defeated.

"**_The nearer I am to her physically, the stronger the enchantment becomes._**" he began quietly, then sighed.  "**_I was ensnared by my own charm, Potter.  I would as soon cut off my right arm than admit this to you, of all people, but it is the truth.  Your woman holds the keys to my very existence on this plane – and there is nothing whatsoever I can do about it._**"  

The Lion Harry stared silently in utter disbelief.  He growled low in his chest, paused, then began to speak again.

"**_Malfoy, are you truly expecting me to believe that – that load of tripe?  My owl, you've told some seriously inventive lies over the years, but this really takes the biscuit!  Are you honestly suggesting that, far from seeking to prevent me from completing my quest, you were irresistibly drawn here by the charms of Miss Weasley alone? That you were so incompetent at casting your enchantment, you inadvertently incorporated a reversal?_**"  

Before Draco could retaliate, Syrinx leaped between them, her arms outstretched.  Her face was pale as the moonlight, but her mouth set in a determined line.

"I hear you," she told both creatures, "every word!  I understand your arguments and your lifelong enmity.  You are both aware of the precarious balance of magic in this place.  I beg you, for all our sakes, not to battle with each other but to try to resolve your differences in some other manner.  Draco, you are completely outnumbered, you cannot hope to prevail under such conditions, but to pursue a magical duel in this place could have devastating consequences for everything.  Please, I beg you – _do not fight!_"

There was a long, long pause; then the snake hissed and very slowly morphed back into Draco Malfoy.  The slim, blonde man reached into his sleeve and produced two wands, both of which he tossed to the ground.  The lion seemed to glare at Draco, tossed its mane and growled a low rumbling sound, but then morphed reluctantly back into Harry.  Ginny tugged at his sleeve.  

"You didn't tell any of us you were an Animagus!"  She was more annoyed than overawed.  Harry stared at her and gave a sudden hiccup of laughter.

"Did you really think I'd let Fred and George get one over on me?  Particularly after all the help I'd given them?"  He shrugged dismissively.  "To be honest, it's not a particularly useful shape." He sighed. "Why I couldn't I have morphed into a squirrel or a mouse is beyond me.  Even a snake is less – conspicuous."

"Think yourself lucky, Potter." the familiar sardonic drawl broke into their conversation. "A lion is an oddity.  A snake that size causes riots – you should know."  Harry turned swiftly and skewered Draco with a glare that would have flayed skin.

"Does your father know you can do this?" he demanded coldly.  Draco laughed and shook his head.

"I know your opinion of my brainpower," he replied, "I've known it for years.  However, I hoped you'd at least give me credit for some street sense.  My father knows as little about me as I can get away with.  That's how I've stayed alive for so long."  Harry stooped to pick up the two wands from the forest floor.  He passed one of them back to Ginny without looking at her; the other he weighed lightly in his hands, his mouth twisting with distaste.

"Is this supposed to buy you your life, Malfoy?" he asked.  Draco shook his head.

"No," he replied, "it's merely to convince you that I'm telling the truth.  I have no quarrel with you – not since I parted company with my father and his immediate interests."  Harry stared speculatively at the blonde wizard then looked away with a disbelieving chuckle.

"And that's what we've come to, is it?" he said, flexing Draco's wand between his stiff fingers.  "The classic showdown where you stand in front of me unarmed and unprotected to proclaim your innocence, as a result of which, of course, I will believe your every word, greet you like a lost son and extend the hospitality of the house."  He laughed, an odd, humourless sound.

"And you expect me to fall for that one?" he continued.  "Malfoy, I endured your endless insults, plotting, sarcasm and spite for seven long years at Hogwarts.  What makes you think I'm likely to have any more sympathy with you now?  If Ministry Intelligence is to be believed, you haven't changed much in essentials, just in scale.  Your reputation isn't exactly an encouragement to mercy, you know."

"And don't forget, Harry," a stony-faced Fred added, "He apparently had no qualms about using an illegal Coercion enchantment on a muggle."  He pointed to where Mouse was sitting, head in his hands, obviously coming down from some serious bewitchment.  Harry's face twisted in distaste.

"By rights, I should kill you now, without a second thought." he spat, turning away.

"Ah, but you won't, will you, Potter?" Draco's voice cut through the overcharged atmosphere like a whiplash.  Harry froze but did not turn around.

"You may find my very presence intolerable," he continued, "like an itch you are unable to scratch, a mosquito you cannot squash.  You may have no earthly reason to trust me over anything at all.  You may consider yourself fully justified in cold-bloodedly striking me down, not only for my past crimes, but also to prevent any inside threat to your current safety.  However, despite all that, you still won't do it.  You're too much Dumbledore's pupil, Potter.  You won't kill me, unarmed and defenceless as I am.  At least, not without hearing me out first."  Harry was silent, then slowly he turned to face his enemy.  His face was calm and grave, but his eyes glittered with malice.

"Convince me then." he said quietly, but the menace behind those simple words was unmistakeable.

~oo0oo~

"I'm sure she won't be long."

The pretty, blonde Receptionist at the Embassy had obviously recognised Oliver Wood as soon as he set foot in the foyer.  She had been extra helpful, and was now favouring him with dazzling smiles every time he so much as glanced in her general direction.

_A pity really_. mused Oliver.  _I'm not usually attracted to blondes, but with this much attention … behave yourself, Wood!_  Giving himself a mental slap, Oliver turned away from the luscious blonde to where Julie Wu was already striding towards him.  Moving to intercept her, a happy smile lighting up his entire face, he was somewhat taken aback when she strode past him, ramrod straight, her expression as black as thunder.  Scarcely breaking stride, she flung something at the Receptionist so hard it bounced off the desk, landing at Oliver's feet.  With the reflexes of a keeper, Oliver quickly scooped up the object and gasped in astonishment.

"Julie, this is your Ministry ID!"

"Not anymore it isn't!"  This last was shouted over her shoulder as she exited through the revolving door.  Exchanging one astonished glance with the Receptionist, Oliver took to his heels in pursuit.

Outside, he looked frantically right and left, just catching the toss of a dark ponytail as it disappeared into the driver's seat of a long, low car.  He dived for the passenger door and wrenched it open.

"Going somewhere?" he asked mildly, sliding in and fumbling for his seatbelt.  Without answering, Julie jerked the car violently into reverse, storming off into the sea of traffic, which parted reluctantly to admit her amidst a volley of blaring horns.  She greeted the protest with supreme indifference, dodging between lanes, cutting up slower vehicles, taking on huge lorries with total aplomb.  Oliver hung on for dear life, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

It was only when Julie braked sharply, bellowing a torrent of invective out of her window that Oliver dared to sneak a quick look at their surroundings.  To his surprise, they were miles out of the city, heading for the mountains.

"Prick!" his lady companion concluded, closing her window and accelerating away from the Porsche driver who had so offended her.

"Ah, what did he do?"  She shrugged.

"Cut me up – nobody gets away with that when I'm driving this machine!  And besides," she glanced across at Oliver, a ghost of a smile around her lips, "in my experience, there's only one reason men drive cars like that."  She broke off, negotiating a hairpin bend smoothly.

"Oh, yes?" prompted Oliver when it was safe to do so.

"Yes." she continued.  "Compensation." He raised his eyebrows interrogatively.  She sighed.

"The flashier the car, the smaller the substance.  Oh, for goodness sake!" she gunned the engine on a straight piece of road.

"It's a substitute.  For something else not quite up to standard …  Look, let's just forget I mentioned it, shall we?"  Oliver opened his mouth to ask for further details then thought better of it.

A few minutes later, with a screech of brakes and a cloud of dust, Julie Wu brought the car to a standstill on a small, dirt parking area.  She flung open her door, ignoring the sudden wave of heat and humidity, and stalked to the edge of the road, looking down on the city.  Oliver approached rather more slowly and joined her.  For a few minutes they were completely silent, then, despite the heat, Julie shivered, rubbing her hands over her goosefleshed arms.

"I come up here sometimes when things get too hairy." she began in a low voice.  "Looking out over Singapore brings everything back into perspective.  Y'know: why I do this job; where I find the resources; how I cope with the bureaucracy, the idiocy that makes the rules." she trailed off and unexpectedly reached for Oliver's hand.  He brought her fingers to his lips.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.  She shook her head.

"Just some asshole from the British Ministry of Magic." she replied.  "Wanted every single scrap of information on Harry Potter's activities in Singapore and Bali, if you please!  Ya don't say!" Julie snorted indignantly.

"I told him my sources are my own and no jumped-up little office boy who's been promoted beyond his level of incompetence is going to stampede into _my_ network and ruin seven years of patient work in one fell swoop!"  Oliver felt a sudden chill go down his spine.

"Tell me, Julie," he asked carefully, "did this particular asshole have a name?"

"Something Brown." she replied carelessly.  "Tarantula?  No, Tantalus – that's it.  Idiot!  These Ministry bigwigs, who have no idea of the process of information gathering, they think they can just waltz into another jurisdiction and start throwing their weight around."  Oliver sighed.

"Julie, I'm sorry to say this, but I'm rather afraid he can!"  She stared.

"What?"

"Tantalus Brown is First Secretary to the Minister of Magic.  He carries a lot of clout.  I'm surprised you didn't know of him."  She digested this in silence then shrugged.

"I work at grassroots level." she replied.  "I have as little to do with the bigwigs as possible.  But," she bit her lip, "I admit, that was a mistake.  I should have kept tabs on Ministry reshuffles."  She was silent for a while, staring into the horizon.  Then she sighed and gave a grim smile.

"So I'm permanently out of a job in Intelligence." she shrugged.  "No big deal."  Oliver couldn't believe he was hearing this.

"You'd give up your career – just like that?"  Julie turned towards him slowly.

"No, Oliver." she said quietly.  "Not just like that.  I've worked on hunches before many times – I'm rarely wrong.  As soon as I saw that man, I had a ba-a-ad feeling.  Even if it weren't against my principles to expose my sources to another operative, however highly placed, every instinct I have was warning me in no uncertain terms to tell him _nothing!_"  She smiled faintly.

"So while he had lunch, I did some lightning, uh, adjustments to the filing system."  The smile reached her eyes and she turned her face towards him.

"Like most ministry wizards, that guy doesn't have the faintest clue how to operate a computer," she said quietly,  "so I destroyed all the papers in my office which had even a vague connection with Harry."  Her smile had spread into a broad, satisfied grin.  "I went through the universal filing system too – nothing remains, except what's on computer."  Oliver's jaw dropped.

"You mean," he began hesitantly, "you've destroyed Ministry property?"  She shook her head vehemently.

"Certainly not!" she replied. "Perish the thought.  I've merely made the first step towards a paperless office.  We're always getting circulars about it."  Oliver stared.

"You _are_ joking – aren't you?" She shook her head solemnly.

"The information's still there, all of it," she replied innocently, "But if this guy Brown wants to get at any of it, he'll have to use an expert.  There's a hotshot at the Ministry called Lee Jordan who should be able to crack my security system with one hand tied behind his back, but seeing as he's a friend of Harry's, I guess he won't be in any great hurry to deliver – especially if he reads my email first!"  Oliver looked at her smiling, determined face and felt a sudden wave of love and admiration wash over him.

"Julie," he sighed, "you are simply – wonderful!"  To his astonishment, colour flooded into her face and she ducked her head in embarrassment.

"Just doing my job." she muttered, looking anywhere but at him.  Oliver put his arms around her, tilting her chin towards him to cover her lips in a gentle, lingering kiss.  He felt her smile then reach round to tangle her fingers in his hair.  He had every intention of continuing with this eminently satisfactory way of spending an afternoon, when a shrill cry from the air alerted them both.  A Post Owl was hovering overhead clutching a tightly-wrapped scroll.  Oliver held out his hand and the owl sent its burden smacking down into his palm with an audible thwack.

It was a message from Arthur Weasley.  

_Lucius Malfoy has been spotted in Nusa Dua_ – Oliver gasped out loud – _and no one has seen hide nor hare of Harry for two days; Mouse has also gone missing.  I need urgent information as to Harry's whereabouts otherwise I cannot guarantee his safety.  Peter Pettigrew has at last been apprehended under rather unusual circumstances, and I have had him transferred to a high security muggle prison.  A certain person who has caused us anxiety in the past objected strongly to these arrangements, but luckily the Minister was with me on this one.  Ministry wizards are investigating a curious set of binding charms which appear to be restraining Pettigrew, but so far with little success.  Julie, I am sorry to write in such a terse manner, but I am in extreme haste.  Trust nothing and no one that does not come from your own patch – I can put it no clearer than that.  Regards, Arthur._

Julie lowered the message, met Oliver's worried eyes and let out a low whistle.

"Well, lookey here!" she exclaimed softly in an absurdly exaggerated Southern States accent.  "Looks like I hit the nail plumb on the head, huh?"

~oo0oo~

"Why do you refuse to believe me, even now, Potter?"  Draco hissed through his teeth in exasperation.  "How many times do I have to say it?  I'm not here to sabotage whatever little scheme you're party to.  I've already admitted to my part in last year's debacle.  _That_ little scheme would have enslaved both you and Miss Weasley to the Dark Side had it succeeded.  But this isn't about you – not everything is, you know – and it's not about her either, despite what you might think."  He sighed.

"I needed you to get to my father, it's as simple as that.  Where you are, so he is – simple.  All I had to do was find you – and believe me, in my situation with the Dark Side, tracking _you_ down was easier and a lot less risky."

"Why didn't you tackle him when he was in England?" responded Harry.  Draco sighed in exasperation.

"Don't you _listen_, Potter?  In England, he's untouchable, impregnable.  That would be a rapid route to a slow and unpleasant death.  The only way I'm going to get to him is to confront him when he's off his patch."  Harry was silent, wrestling with his inner disgust.  Draco threw a glance towards Ginny and made an impatient noise.

"Okay, Potter, so you can't stand the fact that I pissed on your territory."  Harry's head jerked up.  His eyes glittered malevolently.  Draco returned the look full force.

"Well, it happened." he continued recklessly, ignoring the rising rage in Harry's face.  "It's history and I can't change it even if I wanted to, so you'll just have to suck it up and swallow it, however bad it tastes.  Rest assured, I will pay for that little piece of trespass – for the rest of my life."  Harry stared at him as though he had grown two heads.  His nostrils flared in anger.

"You dare to …"

"For Merlin's sake!"  Draco was shaking his head.  His eyes were urgent.

"If I had wanted a woman, don't you think I could have had my pick of hundreds more accessible than Virginia Weasley?  I ask you, Potter, with my family name and money, not to mention the Dark Arts connection, was I _likely _to choose an impoverished nobody from a mudblood-loving family with no social connections whatsoever?  Do you think I relish being tied to someone who is not only totally unsuitable, but also – " he swallowed convulsively, " – irrevocably pledged to you?"  Draco paused and fought visibly for control.

"What other motive could I possibly have for pursuing you here bar that which I have already explained in tedious detail?"

"You could be acting as an inside man for your father."  It was Fred who had spoken.  His hands were clenched and his face was white despite the calming hand Syrinx held on his arm.  Draco turned to identify the speaker.  He nodded seriously.

"I could be," he agreed, "but I'm not."

"We only have your word for that."

"And you'd rather kill me now and worry about it later, seeing as it was your sister I very nearly violated – is that it, Weasley?"  Draco laughed, a humourless, bitter sound.

"If you do kill me, you'll never know for sure – will you?"  Fred glared at him with hatred then let his eyes drop.

"Why should we trust you?" it was Sirius who was speaking.  "After all, we have nothing to gain from your inclusion in our ranks, and everything to lose."  Draco nodded.

"All very true, except for one thing."  He nodded towards Harry.  "There is very little I can do without my wand – which Potter is currently bending with such energy as I fear for its survival."

"I hear you," it was Guru who now spoke, "and your presence fills me with foreboding.  You say you came for your father, but you did not find him.  Instead you have found us.  How close is your father to us here?"  Draco considered.

"I don't know exactly," he said slowly, "But according to Pettigrew, who I interrogated within an inch of his life yesterday, dear Daddy was supposed to have set out, with accurate knowledge of your destination, this afternoon.  That puts him a maximum of twelve hours behind you, less if he travels through the night."

"I believe him."  The words were softly spoken but silence fell in their wake.  Slowly, all heads turned to look at Ginny.  Pale, exhausted, but determined, she held her chin high and repeated her words.

"I think we should trust him." she continued.  "He has imposed upon me, but he hasn't injured me – not yet at any rate – and I don't believe he intended to join us here at all.  I think he was led here by Mouse and once he saw me, he was – unable to leave."  She flushed deeply but stood her ground.  She glanced around at the stony-faced men and knew that her contribution would not preserve Draco's life.  Then, surprisingly, Syrinx spoke.

"I believe I must speak on this man's behalf as, without my intervention, I foresee that he will suffer summary execution."  A shocked silence followed this chilly little speech.  Fred gave Sirius a sidelong glance but held his peace.

"We must allow him to remain with us here." Syrinx told them, a note of finality in her voice.  "I do not vouch for his good behaviour, nor do I guarantee that we will come to no harm as a result of his presence.  All I can promise is that the Balance will only be restored if this man is allowed to live, here and now."

"Syrinx," Fred took her hands, a worried expression on his face, "this man is allied to the Dark Side.  How can you justify taking sides with him?"  A flicker of impatience crossed her beautiful features.

"I'm not siding with him – can you not understand the difference, Fred?"  Syrinx took a deep breath as if trying to order her thoughts into a convincing set of words, but Sirius cut in before she could speak again.

"Much as I hesitate to advocate violence, we would be considerably safer if Draco were not part of our group." he said firmly.  "I personally would be grateful to lose the itch between my shoulderblades.  It's difficult to concentrate on fighting the enemy in front of you when you constantly fear being stabbed in the back."  Guru shook his head violently.

"No, no!  You are all missing the point." he silenced them with a gesture.  "Draco here does not know how close his father is to us, but he says possibly less than half a day.  Our major concern is to reach our objective before he can stop us.  _He knows our destination and our goal!_"  Draco smiled ironically.

"You're right, old man." he answered, skewering the entire group with his intense blue-grey eyes. 

"Believe me," he said coldly, "Pettigrew sang like a canary, as the saying goes, before I immobilised him, and Pettigrew knows only what my father tells him.  It was his information that brought me to the Bali Barat National Park.  My father is already here, and he has all the information he needs.  All that is left for him now is to follow your trail.  Scary, isn't it?"

"What does Harry think?"  All eyes turned to the dark-haired man standing a little apart from the others, brooding over the dilemma.

"Well, Potter?" Draco's voice was very soft.  Harry raised his head and their eyes met for a long moment.

"Merlin help me if I'm wrong," he said in a low voice, "but I can neither carry out nor condone cold-blooded murder."  Harry lifted his chin defiantly and stared Draco down.

"And if that's weakness, Draco Malfoy, then you had better start thanking your lucky stars there is still some of it left in the world – because without that 'weakness', your life would be spilling liberally over this forest floor – and with no one here to mourn your passing!"  Their eyes locked in a long moment of enmity until Draco reluctantly lowered his gaze.  

"Everyone, get packed up." Harry broke the silence.  "We leave in twenty minutes.  We must reach our destination before dawn or Lucius Malfoy will intercept us."  He turned to his godfather.

  
"Sirius, I'm appointing you jailer to our friend here." he jerked his head towards the waiting Draco.  "As far as I'm concerned, he's excess baggage.  Don't hesitate to use undue violence – any flimsy excuse will do." Sirius nodded grimly.  "But no magic."  Harry turned on one foot, scanning the whole group.

"This means _everyone!_"

~oo0oo~

"So, did you get them at Hogsmeade, or had they got as far as Hogwarts?"  The flickering face of George Weasley laughed at his brother's question as they firetalked.

"Do me a favour!" he replied.  "They hadn't even got off the _train!_  Honestly, fancy using the Hogwarts Express – talk about stupidity.  It seems that even Lucius Malfoy is finding it hard to get good help these days!"

Ron smiled, accepting a cup of tea from Hermione who sat down next to him.

"Congratulations, George." she said, nodding briefly.  "I understand that two out of the three you arrested had Ministry rewards on their heads."

"Indeed." George replied. "We owe Lee a big one for this.  If he hadn't traced that muggle thing you got out of Draco Malfoy, those wizards would have turned up on your doorstep!"  He shook his head.  "Far better to get them so far out of their territory they could hardly even put up a fight."  With a swift glance at Ron for George's benefit, Hermione gave a non-committal agreement.  George, however, failed to take the hint.

"Yes," he mused.  "Must have been a bit disturbing, that; Malfoy cutting that device out of his calf muscle without magic or anaesthetic.  Not something you want to witness just after a meal."  Ron frowned in puzzlement.

"In his _calf muscle?_" he turned to Hermione.  "You didn't tell me about that?"

"Didn't I?" she feigned indifference, frowning heavily at George.  "Well, I probably didn't want to dwell too much on it.  It was, er, rather distressing, you know."  George nodded in agreement.

"Yes, I expect it must have been," he replied, seriously,  "and checking minutely through all of his clothes can't have been any picnic either."  Ron opened his mouth to reply to his brother, then, as his brain caught up, closed it hurriedly.  He stared at Hermione in disbelief; she winced.

"_All_ of his clothes?" he asked.  Reluctantly, Hermione nodded.

"Even – you know, even – underwear?"  This time her nod was so faint as to be almost imperceptible.  Ron drew breath.

"Do you mean to tell me," he began slowly, "that Draco Malfoy stripped naked in the middle of our apartment while you searched his clothes for surveillance devices?"

"Bugs." muttered Hermione with a sinking heart.  George bit his lip.

"Have I said something I shouldn't?" he asked plaintively.  Hermione gave him a curiously tight-lipped smile.

"Not at all, George." she replied, lightly but with an edge of steel.  She bid him a pointed farewell between tightly clamped teeth and closed down the call with almost indecent haste.  She rose from the sofa only to find her hand grasped and a pair of suspicious eyes looking straight into hers.

"Darling, isn't there something you wanted to talk to me about?" Ron asked softly.  _Shit!_  thought Hermione, feeling her smile congeal on her face.  _Now let's see you get out of _this_ one, Granger!_

~oo0oo~

_ "Finite incantatem!"_  MacNair watched in disbelief as the small monkey climbed unsteadily to its feet, then he whirled around in fury.

"How dare you!" he shouted.  Katia was resheathing her wand.  The monkey suddenly seemed to snap out of its daze, shrieked once and fled into the safety of the trees.  MacNair advanced on the girl, wand at the ready.

"What gives you the right to interfere in my business?" he roared into her face.  She flinched slightly at the touch of his breath, but held her ground, glaring right back at him.

"I have tried and tried to make you understand." she said, rage showing through with every word. "This is a Holy Place.  If you idiots are too insensitive to detect its power, then you had better believe me before you get all of us killed.  _Use no more magic – of any kind!_"  But MacNair was in no mood to listen to reason.

"I'll conduct my affairs in whatever manner I choose," he shouted, "without reference to you or anyone else!"

"Only a complete imbecile would use one of the Unforgiveable Curses on Holy Ground!"

"I couldn't give two Knuts for your holy ground!  I will do as I wish, and you will not dictate to me!"

"Fool!  Do you _want_ to die?"

The exchange had reached screaming pitch.  Lucius decided to intervene.  Pushing them apart, he glared into the woman's face.

"Katia, you will kindly keep your opinions to yourself unless they are asked for," he snarled, then turned to the other wizard, "and use of the Cruciatus curse on a mere monkey seems to me something of a waste of energy, MacNair."  The other wizard growled, not quite meeting Lucius' eyes.

"Just keeping my hand in." he muttered.  _I'll bet_, thought Lucius.  Katia snorted in disgust and walked away.

"Remember, I warned you." she hissed back at him as she shouldered the heavy pack once again.

"Rest break over." she shouted, oblivious of Lucius' scowl.  "All of you – get underway."  She strode off into the forest, leaving the others to scramble together their baggage and follow haphazardly in her wake.

~oo0oo~

Syrinx dropped her water cup with a gasp.  Her eyes flew wide with dismay.

"Someone is using magic close to the Source!" her voice was a horrified whisper.  She sprang to her feet.  "An Unforgiveable Curse – oh, Flamel's Stone!  The Balance, the Balance!"  Fred gathered the distraught girl into his arms, horrified by the rigid immobility of her body.  He exchanged a worried glance with Guru.  The old man nodded.

"We had better make haste." he said.  "I would hazard a guess that pursuit is not far behind us."  Harry gritted his teeth and gazed intently back at the route they had just traversed.

"Lucius Malfoy." he muttered savagely.  "I just know it.  I've never really been free of his influence since I came home from LA."  Ginny put a gentle hand on his arm.

"Let's get moving – while we still can." she said quietly

~oo0oo~

The Oldest Place, thought Harry Potter as he eased his pack to the ground, was a bit of a disappointment.

After several miles of walking on high ground, above the level of the treetops, they had plunged back down into the dimness of the forest.  They continued a little way further, their eyes gradually adjusting to the gloom, when without warning, Syrinx stopped, bowing her head reverently.  She looked up, her blind eyes shining with an inner light.

"We are here." she announced quietly.

It was a clearing like any other.  There was little undergrowth and the canopy of leaves was as impenetrable as ever.  _Nothing special,_ thought Harry.  At least, until his eyes travelled to the centre of the clearing, and he saw the Tree.  

It was huge, even by giant standards; quite the most enormous tree Harry had ever imagined, let alone seen.  Its trunk was the width of an entire copse, and its outspreading branches must have spanned an area of at least half a mile.  In a forest of giant redwoods, this tree would have reduced its companions to mere weeds.  With a dawning sense of awe, Harry realised that they had travelled under its sheltering foliage for miles; in fact, ever since they had re-entered the forest.  

 "What …?" whispered Ginny.  Harry turned to look at her.  Her face registered nothing so much as blank astonishment.  As if hypnotised, she moved towards the tree, stretching out a hand.  Just prior to contact, she turned to Syrinx as if for permission.  The blind girl nodded.  Ginny placed her hand upon the smooth bark and closed her eyes, concentrating.  She remained there for a long moment, but when she withdrew, her face was puzzled.  Harry moved to her side.

"What is it?" he asked softly, ducking his head to intercept her eyes.

"I don't know." she replied.  "There's a power here.  Massive … awesome.  It reminds me of something …" she trailed off, looking towards Syrinx.  The girl smiled.

"It is the power of the Old Magic." she said simply.  "It recognises you."

"But how?"  Ginny couldn't take her eyes of the Tree.

"You have felt its presence before – in another place, another time."

"Stonehenge?" queried Harry.  Syrinx nodded.

"I am the Dryad." Ginny whispered half to herself, then she turned to the other woman, her eyes shining.

"That's right!"  Harry's face was alight with interest.  "The High Magic came to our aid, just when we were at our most desperate.  That was the first time we felt the bonding, wasn't it Gin?"  

"That is wonderful!"  Syrinx smiled delightedly.  "It is good to hear that more of the Old Magic survives in other parts of the world."

"Actually," interjected Fred, "it called itself the High Magic the last time we looked.  And besides, we were reliably informed, when the hue and cry had died down a bit, that episode had never actually happened – or didn't happen on this plane – or something."

"Oh, Fred!"  Syrinx laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Shame on you for not keeping up with your studies.  Surely you realise by now that The Essence of Magic is known by many different names, and all planes are joined in oneness with the core of Magic?  That's elementary stuff!"  Fred shook his head, an indulgent smile spreading over his face.

"Elementary to you perhaps." he muttered. 

Harry stepped up to the towering edifice and stood scratching his head, staring into its branches.

"This is all very well," he began in a slightly peevish tone, "but Ginny's the one who is sensitive to all things natural.  I've never felt so much as a tremor from a tree in my life!"

"But you're a _Parselmouth_!" protested Fred.  "I know that's not trees, but it's part of the natural world, you have to admit."  Harry frowned.  

"Fred," he said patiently, "we all know how I got that particular talent – and it didn't come naturally.  I think we can count that one out."  Syrinx shook her head.  

"All parts of you are relevant in this process." she told him.  "You will be opening your soul to another presence – your very essence, and all that goes with it.  All your natural talents and understanding, all your life experience, everything you have learned, consciously and unconsciously will be laid bare for another spirit to absorb and understand.  If a Joining is ever to take place between you, it will happen here."  

Ginny bit her lip.

"What happens if we can't meld?" she asked.  

"No harm will come to you," replied Syrinx, "but you will still have the knowledge of each other and this will almost certainly affect your future relationship."  Harry's face had become graver and graver during Syrinx's recital.

"So that means – no secrets?  Ever again?" he asked uncertainly.  Syrinx nodded solemnly.  He looked away, dragging a shaking hand through his hair. 

"Harry?" Ginny timidly put a hand on his arm.  Without looking at her, Harry shook his head.

"I can't go through with it, Gin." he said in a low voice.  "I just can't – let go like that."  If he allowed another person into his mind, another presence into his psyche, the deep shame of Dumbledore's betrayal would have to be faced, solved, accepted.  So much of what made Harry Potter what he was had come from the enigmatic Mage; to fully accept his duplicity struck at the core of Harry's very existence, threatened everything he stood for.

Ginny felt as though a stone had sunk heavily to the pit of her stomach.  This was the end.  If he could not accept the gift she had offered – a complete sharing of everything that had been, was or would be Ginny Weasley – then it was all over between them.  Finished.  Ended.  There was no way she could stay friends with him after this.  Perhaps he would go back to LA – the opportunity was still there, so she understood.  If he didn't go, she would have to leave.  She certainly couldn't stay living in his house knowing what could have been.  

Ginny swallowed, feeling sick, and tried to look Harry in the face.  He refused to look at her, turning away in deep shame.

"What's the matter, Potter?" the nasal drawl penetrated the silence like a buzz-saw.  "Scared?"  No one had spotted Draco moving stealthily into the clearing. Harry stiffened then turned.

"None of your damn business, Malfoy!" he said tightly, balling his fists.  Draco smiled insolently.

"Absolutely." he agreed.  "Oh, I totally agree; no question about it.  However …" his voice trailed off interrogatively.  Harry looked up sharply.

"However what?" he demanded.  "Malfoy, if you've got something to say then spit it out."  Draco raised his eyebrows.

"You really do have a delicate turn of phrase when the mood takes you, Potter." he replied in an offhand manner.  He straightened his sleeve, taking note of a number of small tears in the fabric.  "I was merely postulating that the Famous Harry Potter, Vanquisher of He Who Must Not be Named, has finally met his match."  Shaking his head, Draco minutely examined his fingernails.

"Strange really." he continued in a conversational tone. "Such reputed courage, such vaunted nerve, such alleged combat skills, yet fear of the unknown keeps the Famous Harry Potter skulking in the shadows, when even his little mistress is straining at the leash."

"You don't understand what's at stake, Malfoy." muttered Harry.  Draco laughed out loud.

"Oh, but I think I do!" he replied, grinning broadly.  "How good are you at memory charms, Potter?  Is that how you got your reputation?  Something of the Gilderoy Lockhart about you, is there?"  

"Malfoy, I'm warning you!"

"Oh, but I'm just getting started!  Tell me, Potter, was it really Black who helped Dumbledore defeat the Dark Lord – only he's just forgotten about it?  Or was it Remus Lupin?  Did he give his life to banish You Know Who, only to have the glory snatched from under his dying nose?  Or perhaps it was Weasley?  No, no."  Draco shook his head violently.  "No.  That particular scenario is beyond even _my_ fertile imagination."

The next moment, Draco landed flat on his back on the forest floor.  He raised himself onto his elbows, shook his head in a dazed fashion then brought a hand to his face.

"Ow!" he said, gingerly feeling the flesh around his left eye.  "Powerful right hook you have there, Potter.  I'm going to have a beautiful shiner for a couple of weeks."  Harry stood over Draco's prone body, breathing heavily, massaging his bruised knuckles.

"Shut up, Malfoy." he managed in a low voice.  "Just – shut up!"

Harry set his jaw.  With one final disdainful glance at his fallen adversary, he turned his back on the group.  He walked over to where Ginny stood, anxious and white-faced, and held out his hand.

"Well?" he said tensely.  "Are we going?"  Ginny looked carefully into his eyes then, with relief flooding through her whole body, she took his hand.  Together they moved towards the enormous tree, stretched out their hands, Harry with only a momentary hesitation, and together placed them on the massive trunk.

With their eyes riveted to the couple by the tree, no one noticed a small, rather sad smile spread over the tired face of Draco Malfoy. Maybe now all debts were paid?  Maybe.

The tree began to glow.  Slowly, gradually, a warm golden light suffused the clearing.  The very bushes and plants seemed to glimmer in sympathy, absorbing the energy, creating radiance of their own.  Suddenly, as though someone had struck a match, the light flared up to an intolerable intensity.  Reeling with shock, they cried out, hands over their eyes.

"What's happening?"  Sirius staggered forward, tears streaming down his face.  When his abused eyes could finally register an image once again, he found himself standing in front of the tree.  He stretched out his hands to touch the bark; it felt rough and warm.  Ginny and Harry were nowhere to be seen.

~oo0oo~

**Author's Notes****:  Thanks very much for the reviews Cinnamon Oatmeal, Dreamgirl, Annie and quota.  Keep 'em coming – they keep me going!**


	14. A Meeting of Minds

Disclaimer:  _This story is written for the purposes of my own amusement and, hopefully, that of my readers, and no profit of any kind is being generated by it or by either of its prequels.  All characters and history belong to J.K. Rowling and to whomsoever she has licensed her creations at the present time.  I own the plot and the odd original character, nothing else._

**_Sorcerors' Endgame_** A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Penpusher Sequel to "By the Pricking of My Thumbs" 

**Chapter Thirteen: A Meeting of Minds**

A searingly bright light lanced into Ginny's eyes.  On reflex, she flinched away from the glare and fell into an abyss of nothingness.

There was no light, no sound, no sensation at all; she was suspended in a vacuum, her face frozen in the rictus of a silent scream.  Even Harry's hand was no longer there.  _ Have courage, I am with you_.  Was that his voice, or merely her imagination?  Then there was nothing.

~oo0oo~

Darkness, fragments of awareness, a voice, low and insistent.  She couldn't make out the words, but the tone was urgent.

"Ginny."

The voice was getting louder.

"Ginny.  Wake up.  Come on now."

She screwed her eyes shut and tried to burrow into herself, wanting no dealings with this voice.  It could do what it wished without reference to her, surely?  She started to protest at its persistence, but all that emerged was a cracked moan.  A gentle hand brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

"_Ginny!_" the voice was getting impatient now.  "Please.  Just open your eyes.  Let me know you're alright."

_Okay, okay – just keep it down, will you?_  Her body made an attempt to get itself into gear.  She cracked open one eye and cried out as light sliced into her retina.

"Ow!" she sat up, bringing her hands involuntarily to her head. "What hit me?  A manticore?"  She tried opening her eyes once again.  A pair of green eyes swam into focus, framed by a shock of black hair.

"Harry?" she murmured blearily.  "What happened?"  His mouth curved into a smile.

"Thank goodness!" he exhaled in relief. "I thought – well, never mind what I thought.  Can you stand?"  Obediently, Ginny shifted her legs under her then groaned once again.

"Give me a minute."  She rubbed her eyes, blinking them into focus as she glanced around her – and froze.  She frowned, looking towards Harry, and her jaw dropped.

"Harry, you – you're …" He nodded without smiling.

"I noticed," he replied dryly, "and incidentally – so are you!"

Harry looked smaller, slighter.  His face was plumper, more childlike, and the lines of care and worry had been miraculously smoothed away.  His dark hair was as unruly as ever but longer than usual, and he wore round spectacles with a chip out of one lens.  His black wizard robes displayed a very familiar crest – that of a lion bearing the legend "Gryffindor".  

Temporarily speechless, Ginny glanced down at herself.  Physically, she was thinner, smaller, and her womanly curves had somehow vanished.  Her body seemed to have regressed to adolescence, if that were possible.  Her abundant red hair flowed wild and untamed down her back almost to her hips.  Her robes were identical to Harry's.  

She lifted her hands, surveying herself in wonder, and turned to Harry with a puzzled expression.

"Where are we?"  He shrugged, giving a wry smile.

"Search me," he replied, "I just woke up myself."  Forgetting all about her headache, Ginny panned around the scenery, taking in every detail.

"It looks like – "

"Yeah," Harry cut in, "I know what it looks like – and I know what we look like.  Okay, so it's possible – but why?"

The corridor was made of stone.  Huge, worn flags stretched ahead of them as far as the eye could see, chilly-looking walls rose high into wooden rafters, flaming torches cast shadows that flickered and danced against the stonework.  Harry stood up, hands on his hips, and surveyed the area.

"We're back at school, Ginny."  he said, ironically. "This is Hogwarts.

Ginny rose to her feet, twisting her disarrayed hair into a quick, firm knot at the back of her neck.  She frowned.

"Harry, I know what it looks like," she began doubtfully, "but is it real?  I mean," she gestured widely to the dizzying length of the corridor, "to begin with, we don't wear these clothes any more, and we've changed a bit physically since leaving, yet here we are, just exactly as we looked before we graduated.  I've even got a Prefect badge; but, Harry – I wasn't made Prefect until my Seventh Year, and you'd already left by then!"  She paused to gather her thoughts.  

"Okay, try this for size." she began.  "Do you actually recognise this corridor as somewhere familiar to you in Hogwarts, or does it just _remind_ you of the place?" Harry frowned.

"Well, now you come to mention it," he replied slowly, "I don't remember this corridor specifically, no, but what does that signify?"  He paced the floor.  "There were dozens of places we never explored while we were there.  Even if we'd tried, I'm sure the castle itself wouldn't have let us into all of its secrets: some of those flights of stairs never led to the same place twice.  Even the Marauders Map is pretty incomplete, despite the genius of Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs."  Ginny nodded thoughtfully.

"So, reality or illusion?  No decisive evidence either way, so far." she concluded briskly.  "Okay, so whoever brought us here wants us to act as though we're back at Hogwarts, and they've adjusted our appearance to fit in with that scenario, yes?"  

"Or maybe they want us to cast off the shackles of adulthood and return to adolescence," suggested Harry, "and the surroundings are just here to provide local colour."

"But why?"  Harry shrugged.

"Who can say?" he replied.  "I guess we'll find out soon enough."  Ginny bit her lip, pivoting on one heel to survey her surroundings.

"Three dead ends." she announced, finding a blank wall behind her. "Only one way to go." She turned to look down the corridor.  It stretched away as far as the eye could see until it disappeared into an unimaginable horizon.  She glanced at Harry and held out her hand.

"Well?" she said impatiently.  "Are you coming or not?"  Harry didn't reply immediately.  He was staring at her with a faint smile, as though digging deep into his memory, trying to judge the authenticity of her current appearance.  Unaccountably, Ginny blushed.

"Harry!" she repeated, more insistently this time.  Still smiling, Harry curled his fingers around hers and fell into step beside her.

"You know," he said conversationally, "you really were very pretty as a teenager.  I'm surprised I didn't notice."

"You had eyes for someone else," she responded lightly, "and besides – I was just Ron's little sister.  Out of bounds to his best friend.  Or anyone else!" she finished with a gloomy sigh.  Harry gave her a sideward glance and cleared his throat self-consciously.  Ginny looked at him enquiringly.

"I must confess to something of a mental tussle over this – situation." he admitted, the twinkle in his eyes belying the serious tone.  "To tell the truth, I'm having a rather unexpected reaction to your proximity and, ah, adolescent attractiveness, and I'm not entirely sure whether it's the real me who's responding, or the schoolboy appearance!"  

Ginny stared at him, giving a sudden high-pitched giggle as the pieces fell into place.  Harry merely raised his eyebrows and smiled.

"Well, don't expect me to do anything about it here." she retorted, flushing an even deeper shade of red.  "Besides, we're on business, Harry!  Get your mind out of the gutter and back on to current issues!"  But try as she might, she could not suppress a very pleased smile.

Their footsteps rang out on the cold stone floor, echoes returning from the dimness above.  Lead-lighted windows appeared on both sides of the corridor, but behind their glass was impenetrable darkness.  Harry tried to open one with no success.  Losing interest, Ginny wandered towards something in the distance.  Harry watched her peer curiously at whatever it was, then freeze.  He moved quickly to her side.

"What's this, Ginny?"  She didn't answer.  Her face was puzzled.

"It's me."  she whispered. "I wasn't sure at first, but it _is_ me!"  

The first thought that came to Harry's mind was that she had found the Mirror of Erised.  Huge, gilt framed, stretching from floor to ceiling, this vast expanse of glass resembled the original very closely.  However, the ornate frame was bare of any inscription, and the glass merely reflected two small, startled faces.

"Yes," he replied easily.  "I told you – you look very young, you know."  She shook her head.

"No!" she whispered.  "Not my reflection – oh, can't you see?"  As Harry stared more closely into the mirror's depths, over the shoulders of their pale reflections another very different scene began to unfold.

A large, unkempt and familiar garden took shape.  A group of children, all with striking red hair, ran around the moss-infested lawn playing a vigorous game of catch with what looked like a quaffle.

_"To me, to me!" shouted a well-grown boy of around nine years of age.  He waved his arms furiously.  Another lad, who resembled the first very strongly, lobbed the quaffle over the head of a smaller, freckle-faced boy.  It was quickly snatched by the first with a howl of triumph.  Turning fluidly, he threw it with all his might towards a battered wooden ring.  The throw was far too hard and high, missing the ring and crashing into the branches of a large oak tree.  There it stayed._

_"That's torn it." a slightly older boy strolled into view, ostentatiously reading a book. "You'll have to ask Dad to get it down when he comes home."_

_"Not on your life, Perce." volleyed the perpetrator of the deed, taking off at a run towards the tree. "We'll just get it from the tree house."  With whoops of joy, the other children followed in his wake._

_"Fred!  George!  You're not allowed to climb out of the windows!" shouted Percy. "You know how cross Mum was last time."  But Fred was already scrambling up the worn rope ladder.  The boy who looked so disturbingly like him turned to smirk rudely at Percy.  He swung onto the ladder, swiftly followed by the freckle-faced boy who climbed energetically, trying to keep up.  George glanced back at him._

_"Watch it, Ron!" he admonished. "You're practically climbing up my back!" he looked down. "And tell Ginny to get off the ladder!  She's too small to climb up here at here age, and besides – she's a girl!"  _

_Ron grinned at his brother in reply and turned, aiming a kick at his younger sibling._

_"Ginny, go back down – you're too young to be up here!" he ordered.  The smallest figure turned furious eyes on her brother._

_"It's as much my tree house as yours!" she retorted.  Ron glared at her._

_"If you don't get down right now, I'll tell Mum!" he replied. "You won't get any dessert for a week!"  Ginny frowned, her lip jutting out in an angry pout._

_"I don't care!" she retorted, still climbing.  The edges of Ron's ears went red with anger._

_"Go away, Ginny!" he shouted, kicking out at her once again.  "I'm older than you, and you're supposed to do what I tell you!  It's boys only up here – and you're not a boy!"  Ginny tried to avoid the furiously flailing foot, but was eventually driven back down the ladder._

_"And stay there!" yelled Ron furiously as he began climbing back up the ladder._

"I hate you!" she shouted, beating small fists against the tree trunk.  Dashing angry tears from her face with grubby fingers, she stormed back into the house.  Once in the kitchen, her eyes lit on a wand, unattended and unguarded.  In the heat of her childish rage, she snatched it up, ran back into the garden and pointed it at the tree house with all the passion of youthful injustice.  

To her astonishment, the wand jumped in her hand, there was a loud crack and the tree house containing the three small boys began to descend, slowly and inexorably to the ground.  She watched in fascinated horror as the flimsy wooden structure slipped from its moorings, gradually disintegrating as it fell, to a chorus of terrified shrieking from the occupants.  Ginny waited no longer: she fled back into the house, shouting for Mum at the top of her voice.  However, circumspection had not completely deserted her – she was careful to replace the wand exactly where she had found it.

The images faded, leaving Ginny breathing heavily, her face in her hands.  Harry folded her into his arms, lips in her hair, murmuring reassurance.  She shook him off impatiently and stared up into his face with frightened eyes.  He smiled gently.

"Ginny," he began, "it's okay, really."  She shook her head frantically.

"No, you don't understand." she told him feverishly.  "No one knows about that – do you see?  _I've never told anyone!_"  She paused to draw breath.

"I was never found out."  she continued in slightly calmer tones.  "It was Charlie's wand I used – he was always losing the darned thing.  I practically killed my brothers by destroying their clubhouse, just because they wouldn't let me in it.  And I never owned up.  I let everyone think that it was an accident." Ginny buried her face in her hands.  Harry laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Was anyone hurt?"  Ginny nodded.

"Ron got a nail through his foot," she began, "climbing out of the wreckage.  George broke his arm, Fred lost a couple of fingernails – nothing serious."  Harry frowned.

"Didn't you have an Improper Use of Magic Notice as a result?"  Ginny couldn't suppress a smile at that.  She nodded.

"Yes," she replied. "Charlie was served with one a few days later.  He swore blind he hadn't done anything."  She sighed.  "He was right – he hadn't.  _He_ had no dessert for a week.  And it was all down to me."

"Ginny, you were a child!"

"I was a vindictive little cow!"

"Well, maybe you had cause to be." Harry scratched his head.  "It can't have been easy, being the smallest in such a large family – and a girl, to boot.  They must have given you hell."  She smiled reminiscently.

"They certainly did, particularly the twins," she told him, "but after a while, they realised that Ron was a better target.  He rose to the bait far more easily than I ever did, and his efforts at revenge were always completely transparent.  The only way he could ever get one over on Fred or George was if I helped him."  Harry grinned.

"Who knew you were such a firecracker so young!" he replied.  Ginny lowered her eyes modestly then frowned again.

"But Harry, _why?_" she stared at the now blank mirror.  "Why show us something that happened so long ago?  Something that I'm so deeply ashamed of?"  Harry didn't answer.  Instead, he pursed his lips, took her hand and continued walking.  Ginny pulled on his arm.  He turned enquiringly.

"Can we walk along the other wall, please?" she begged. "I'm terrified of what I might find on this side."  Harry shrugged but obediently shifted towards the left.  They moved on for a while in silence, until another object affixed to the wall came in sight.

This was also a mirror, but of a completely different design to the previous one.  Large, oval, frameless and made entirely of glass, it seemed to hang without support in mid air, just inches away from the wall.  Harry felt a prickling sensation down the back of his neck as he peered into its depths.

In a small, quiet clearing in the middle of a wood, three boys were arguing.  They all looked to be about fourteen or fifteen, but whereas two of them were tall and heavy, the third was smaller, thin and rather weedy looking.  Behind the round lenses of his spectacles, his green eyes were darting here and there, looking for escape.  It was wasted effort; the others had him cornered.

_"You won't get away from me this time, Potter." one of the bigger boys, an ugly brute with blonde hair, was saying.  "I know that stupid school of yours teaches you to do all sorts of unfair things, like turning people into frogs.  You could do that to me, if you wanted to, couldn't you?  But you won't, will you, Potter?  Dad found out the summer before last you're not allowed to use magic outside your poncy school until you've left – and that's three years away, isn't it, _cousin_?  If you did turn me into a frog, they'd kick you out, send you packing, expel you – wouldn't they?  So, seeing as you can't show us what you learn at your school, Felix and I'll just give you a bit of what we learn at Smeltings, eh, Felix?"  _

_The other fat boy sniggered.  The small, dark-haired one was clenching and unclenching his fists.  He looked scared._

_"Don't come near me, Dudley!" he said in a high voice.  The two others looked at each other and burst out laughing._

_"Or you'll be sorry." the smaller boy finished on a low, defeated note.  He stared at the ground, visibly trembling.  Dudley gestured to his colleague._

_"You first, Felix." he said, smiling courteously, then, at the other's startled glance:  "Just practising my manners.  Like we do at school – _you _know!"  _

_Felix grinned, revealing teeth as sharp and crooked as an alligator's.  He approached the smaller boy slowly, savouring his fear, his terrified immobility.  He made a sudden lunge and grabbed him by the hair, pulling his head to an impossible angle.  He gave a feral smile at his gasp of pain._

"Harry Potter, genius, the boy who lived – pah!" he spat.  Harry yelled in agony. Dudley gave a thin, high cackle of laughter as Felix increased the pressure.

_Suddenly, Harry went completely limp.  Felix, taken by surprise, slackened his grip.  Like an eel, Harry slid from his grasp, turned rapidly and planted a well-aimed knee in the other boy's gut.  Winded, his eyes popping out of his fat face, Felix fell face down on the forest floor, his hands clutching his ample belly.  Dudley stared aghast, then raised his eyes to meet those of his cousin.  Harry took a deep breath, bit his lip, and stepped towards his fallen adversary.  His shoes were not heavy, being merely Dudley's worn-out trainers, but the first kick he aimed at Felix's ribs connected with enough force to elicit a cry of pain.  _

_The next few moments were a blur of violence.  Finally, Harry stood, breathing heavily, wiping sweat out of his eyes.  Felix was rising slowly and unsteadily to his feet.  His face was bruised and there was a cut over one eye.  His lip was swollen and he was holding his side, wincing as he moved.  He looked up at Harry, gave a pitiful cry and cowered away from him. Harry glared into Dudley's horrified face._

_"That's what'll happen to you."  he told him hoarsely.  He swallowed and his voice became stronger._

_"I'm not the pathetic little twerp I was before I went to Hogwarts," he continued, "I've learned a thing or two – and not just about magic either.  I've had enough of your bullying.  I don't want to fight you, Dudley, I really don't.  I want you just to leave me alone, do you hear?  Touch me again, and I'll do the same to you.  Or it could be worse."  His eyes became hard._

_"Now, get out of here, both of you!  Go away – go home!"  The two boys didn't need telling twice.  They ran as fast as they could, Dudley easily outstripping the injured Felix.  In the mirror, the child Harry sank down to his knees on the forest floor and cried bitterly._

Ginny heard a soft gasp.  She turned to see the adult Harry, his face buried in his hands.  His shoulders were shaking.

"Harry?" she put a gentle hand on his arm.  Gradually, he regained control and lowered his hands with a final sigh.

"Was that the truth?" she asked, looking up into his eyes.  He nodded wordlessly and turned away.

"So now you know." he replied, his voice rough.  "Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived, the genius wizard, the dirty fighter, the bully."  Ginny could hardly believe her ears.

"The _bully?_  Harry, _you_ were the one being bullied!"  Ginny was incensed.  "Those two boys – your horrible muggle cousin and that idiot with him – they deliberately set out to beat you up.  You defended yourself – where's the shame in that?"

"I didn't just defend myself, don't you understand?"  Harry's eyes were stricken.  "I hurt him really badly; badly enough to be sure he would never, ever hurt me again.  Enough to make sure Dudley would walk stiff-legged around me until I left home.  And I did it deliberately."  He groaned and looked at the floor.

"I just wanted them to leave me alone."  he whispered.  Ginny put her arms around him.

"And this was your big childhood secret?" she said gently.  "Something you never told anybody?  Something you were never punished for?"  Harry nodded.

"Dudley took the blame for Felix's injuries."  he told her levelly. "It meant that Felix's parents refused to let their son have anything to do with the Dursleys for the entire time my cousin was at Smeltings.  Actually it made very little difference.  Felix was too ashamed at having had the lights kicked out of him by a pathetic little wimp like me to want to be near Dudley again – after all, my cousin had witnessed his humiliation at the hands of someone much smaller and younger than himself – so Dudley lost a friend too.  Actually, the only one he ever had at that school."  Harry sighed.

"I succeeded in permanently stopping my cousin from harming me," he told her, "but was the game really worth the candle?"  Ginny shook her head.

"Who can say?" she replied crisply, "but if that's the worst secret you have, then you've led a peculiarly blameless life."  Harry pursed his lips.

"Oh, I don't know." he replied looking further down the corridor.  "I've a feeling we're in for a few more surprises yet."

~oo0oo~

Sirius paced up and down in front of the huge tree.  Occasionally he eyed it malevolently and fingered his wand, as if dying for a chance to curse it into next week.  Two hours had gone by, and they were no nearer finding Harry and Ginny.

Syrinx alone was sanguine about the situation.

"The Old Magic will protect them." she insisted.  "Their lives are in no danger."  Sirius merely growled and went back to his pacing.

Fred moved unobtrusively over to the pale girl and took her hand.

"Syrinx," he murmured in a low, "I'm not doubting you in any way, please believe that.  I trust you, and I'm certain that Harry and Ginny are safe.  However, there is the little matter of a posse of Dark Wizards probably less than an hour away from us by my reckoning.  Do you have any suggestions as to what action we should take?"  The girl aimed her sightless eyes unerringly for his face and shook her head.

"I cannot tell you." she replied composedly.  Fred raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"If I tell you what to do, you will not do it and the timeline will change."  Despite the gravity of the situation, Fred allowed a faint smile to curve his lips.

"Let me get this straight." he began, steepling his fingers.  "You know what I should do to ensure that the most favourable timeline comes into being, yes?"  She nodded mutely.  "But you can't tell me, because if you do, being the kind of person I am, I'll try to improve upon it and thus move us into a different, less favourable timeline.  Does that about cover it?"  The girl sighed.

"Yes, Fred." she replied ruefully. "I guess that about covers it."  Fred was silent for a moment, then he started to laugh quietly.  Squatting down beside her, he threw a companionable arm around her shoulders and planted an impulsive kiss on her cheek.  Syrinx flushed; this was his boldest gesture yet.

"My love," he began, still chuckling, "I never before appreciated how ghastly it must be to always be right!  You're continually floundering in a moral maze.  You must go through agonies every time you intervene in anything at all – have I done the right thing?  Could I have found a better way?"  The girl nodded.

"And then there are the times when I don't intervene, and torture myself for my inactivity." she finished with a wry smile.  "On the whole, those occasions are fewer.  I may be young, but I have learned enough over my short life to know that my real function in this world is to refrain from interfering."  Fred nodded.

"It's a paradox, isn't it?" he mused.  "You are the most powerful being in this world today.  But you spend your life in secrecy in case others with less conscience than yourself seek to use you for their own ends, and you must use your gifts as little as possible lest you upset the balance of the world.  A poor existence, Syrinx."  She nodded sadly.

"True, my friend," she began, "but there are worse situations.  The Sorceress Cassandra of Troy was also a true seer, but she was cursed throughout her life with the fate that her prophesies would never be believed."

"Ouch!" Fred winced in sympathy with the legendary Cassandra.  "That must have been a real bummer!"

"Truly." agreed Syrinx.  "She came to a very sticky end."  Fred tightened his arm around her shoulders.

"Well, however bad it was, it's _not_ going to happen to you." he told her firmly.  "Not now I'm here."  The girl smiled and let her head rest on his shoulder.

~oo0oo~

Further down the corridor they walked, their shadows sent dancing by the flickering torchlight over the walls and floor.  The next mirror was also on Harry's side.

This one had a carved wooden frame, intricate and three-dimensional.  Ginny stared at it, puzzled: its vaguely oriental flavour reminded her of something.  Then the images started to appear, and her attention shifted.

The scene was certainly in Hogwarts, but the room was not a classroom or a hallway.  This was a small dormitory, so small that it had to be one of the few single bedrooms allocated to Seventh-Year Prefects only.  A girl – small and slight with very black hair – was standing at the open window, gazing out into the sunshine.  Faint roaring could be heard, as of a large crowd, and in the distance, figures dressed in bright colours could be seen diving and swooping on broomsticks.  Their robes were green and yellow.

_The girl turned suddenly, starting at the sound of a knock.  Her pale oval face was Eurasian and she was very pretty._

_"Come in."  Her quiet instruction was answered by the turning of the latch.  The door opened to admit a lone bespectacled boy whose anxious face and awkward manner betrayed some trepidation at being there at all.  The girl smiled shyly then demurely lowered her eyes and turned back to the window.  Dragging a nervous hand through his hair, the boy joined her at the window, hesitantly touching her hand in greeting._

_"What's the score?" he asked._

_"Slytherin lead by twenty points to ten." she answered, her eyes still riveted to the Quidditch pitch.  The boy made a face_

_._

_"I know they're a good team," he said, "but somehow it goes against the grain to want Slytherin to win at _anything!_"  The girl smiled and turned away from the window._

_"Oh, Harry!" she sighed in gentle exasperation. "Fair's fair: if they're the better team, don't they deserve the victory?"  She raised a gentle hand to his face, caressing his cheek.  He caught the hand, bringing his lips around to kiss the palm.  He looked up, holding her eyes with a level gaze._

_"Would you prefer to watch the match?" he asked awkwardly. "I mean, if you don't want to go through with this, I'll understand …" he trailed off as, with one last glance at the whirling figures, she stepped away from the window.  _

_Sliding her arms lightly around his neck, she stood on tiptoe to brush his lips lightly with her own.  Her expression was serious._

_"Harry," she told him, "I do want to go through with this – more than you can ever know."  She ducked her head briefly then met his eyes once again._

_"I will be leaving Hogwarts at the end of this term." she told him.  "I want us to be together – even if it's only this once – before my life changes totally.  I have to know, Harry."  She bit her lip. _

_"I want you so much.  I have to know whether this is right, or whether it's just part of – part of growing up!"  Harry gathered her into his arms, pressing his lips against her neck, his eyes closing in passion._

_"Oh, it's real alright." he murmured.  "I've never felt this way before, not about anyone or anything.  I'm – completely helpless, head over heels, besotted!"  The girl laughed, a rippling, delighted sound.  Harry bent his head to kiss her soft mouth, gently, thoroughly._

_"I love you, Cho."  he whispered against her hair._

"And I love you, Harry." she replied, equally quietly.  Pushing him gently away, she took his hand, leading him meaningfully towards a corner of the room where her huge, curtained four-poster bed was situated.

Harry glanced at Ginny as the remainder of the scene unfolded.  Her face was impassive; only a slight flush betrayed her emotional reaction.  When the images finally ceased, she gave a small sigh and turned to meet his eyes.  He shrugged.

"What can I say?" he told her, a hint of bitterness in the tone.  "You just witnessed me making love to Cho for the first time.  You watched me lose my virginity.  It can't get much more personal than that."  Ginny swallowed, knowing instinctively how important it was to get this right.  _Gently now!_

"Harry," she began slowly, "Why do you think whoever – whatever – is in control here chose to show me that particular image?"  Harry shrugged impatiently.

"How should I know?" he replied, turning his back and running his hand through his hair in exasperation.  Ginny put her hand on his arm.

"I'm serious, Harry." she said urgently.  "What is going on here?  Get your brain into gear and start thinking – why?"  Harry stopped raking his hair and considered.  He turned to her.

"That – image," he began, "well, it's scarcely something I would have chosen to tell you about – in fact, I didn't tell anybody, ever.  Ron and Hermione both knew that Cho and I were serious – so did you, as a matter of fact."  Ginny lowered her eyes, then she felt a warm hand tilt her chin and raised her head to Harry's mild gaze.

"I thought we'd been through all that, Ginny." he said quietly, but with a slight question in the tone.  She gave him a quick smile and grasped the extended hand.

"We have." she replied firmly.  He nodded.

"Okay." he continued, a slight frown gathering between his brows.  "However, my point is that literally _no one_ knows Cho and I began our physical relationship on Hogwarts premises."  He scratched his head with a slightly awkward expression.

"As you saw," he continued, "we managed to meet for the first time during a Quidditch match between Hufflepuff and Slytherin."  Ginny nodded, her eyes bright with memory.

"I remember that game." she replied.  "That was the first time Malfoy ever caught the Snitch!"

"And the last!"  Harry retorted with fervour.  Ginny gave him an old-fashioned look.

"Are you sure that's quite true?" she asked.  He shook his head dismissively.

"Frankly, I don't care." he responded.  "The point is that even though Ron and Hermione covered for us during that match, they didn't know things between Cho and me had progressed to, well, quite that degree.  They were having similar problems keeping their own relationship quiet.  Ron took me fully into his confidence over that – well, he didn't have much choice really, as I would probably have worked it out from the Marauder's Map – and I covered for them as much as I could when they wanted total privacy.   But the point is, they both truly believed that I hadn't got beyond the hand-holding stage with Cho.  We told them we were going on an illegal jaunt to Hogsmeade for the afternoon – through the secret passage in the witch's hump.  To this day, neither of them knows that we never left Hogwarts!"  Ginny's jaw dropped.

"You mean – my brother and Hermione were …" she trailed off as Harry nodded, biting his lips to keep himself from laughing at her scandalised expression.  

"At Hogwarts?" she managed in a shocked tone.  Smiling, he stroked her hand soothingly.

"My dear girl, you didn't _really_ believe, after all that instruction in Sixth Year from Madame Pomfrey about Contraceptive Charms and the Morning-After Potion, that Hermione would have been able to resist trying it out?  All in the name of Research, of course!" Harry laughed, an open, carefree sound.  Ginny swallowed her chagrin and glared fiercely.

"Well, _I_ never did!"  She retorted.  Harry looked slightly surprised.

"Did you not?" he said.  "You know, I'm really not sure why, but I always rather assumed that Markland wasn't your first.  You met him directly after Graduation, didn't you?"  Ginny arched her eyebrows and nodded.

"Yes, I did." she replied.  "So, because I went out with Sven Gunnarsson from Hufflepuff in my last year, you naturally assumed that I was – how did you put it? – making good use of Madame Pomfrey's instructions, hmm?" Harry looked a little shame-faced.

"I should have known better." he said ruefully.  "I never really thought about it in detail; trying to avoid probing dangerous waters, I suppose.  I guess I just assumed that if _I _was doing it – Me!  Shy, awkward Harry Potter – then everyone else _had_ to be!"  Ginny shook her head.

"It depends less on the person you are than on the person you're going with – if that makes any sense." she replied.  "Sven was never any good for me.  Oh, he was blonde, hunky and gorgeous, but if the truth be told – and it must be – I went out with him because he asked me, and because all my friends said I'd be daft to turn him down."  She gave a faint smile.

"Whatever you thought then, Harry, beauty and muscles just don't do it for me; they never have.  Sven was genuinely fond of me, though, and I got to like him a lot as a friend.  I think we had a workable relationship because we got on okay, and neither of us wanted to date anyone else.  It took some of the pressure off him."  Her eyes twinkled mischievously.  

"I've not set eyes on him since he graduated," she continued, "but if he's decided to change teams in the interim, I wouldn't be at all surprised.  I got the strong impression that girls really didn't interest him that much."  Harry raised his eyebrows, staring at her in disbelief.

"You must be joking!  Gunnarsson – gay?  But – but he was Chaser for Hufflepuff for – what was it? – three years!"  Ginny shook her head solemnly.

"I'd put money on it," she replied firmly,  "and, Harry, being gay doesn't automatically preclude a man from being good at sports, you know."  Harry let out a surprised breath.

"Well, that beats all!"

"So, now you know.  David really _was_ my first – despite your baseless assumptions!"  Harry looked apologetic.

"Seriously, Ginny, I'm sorry." he replied humbly.  "It was wrong of me to second-guess your love life."  Ginny looked at his downcast expression and relented.

"Cheer up." she told him.  "Now you know all about my past amorous adventures – or lack of them, perhaps we might be spared the graphic details."  Harry suddenly froze, oblivious of her hopeful smile.  

"Now you know …" he muttered," … spared the graphic details. _That's it!_"  The last was a jubilant exclamation. 

"What?"  Ginny looked puzzled.  Harry grabbed her shoulders urgently.

"Don't you see?" he told her.  "This is about the Joining.  This is about sharing – memories, thoughts, dreams.  Things we are unwilling or too ashamed to bring into the open, things we thought we had forgotten, things that we really had forgotten."  He stared into her face and his eyes seemed almost to bore holes through to her brain.

"I can't prove it conclusively, but I'd be willing to make a bet that if you _hadn't_ told me about Markland, I'd have been treated to a blow-by-blow visual account in the next mirror." he continued more thoughtfully.  He gave her a rueful smile.  "So if there's anything more I should know, I guess you'd better 'fess up now – unless you _want_ to be treated to another X-rated feature!"  Ginny shivered but said nothing.  

"What about you?" she asked eventually.  "Is there anything more to know about you and Cho?"  Harry paused to consider.

"Cho and I were – _intimate _on Hogwarts premises precisely twice." he told her finally.  "Even though she had a Seventh-Year Prefect's suite and I, as a Sixth Year Prefect, had certain privileges, including virtually the run of the school, we had an almost paranoid fear of gossip.  We didn't dare risk being discovered – it was just too difficult for me to keep secrets in that place, especially after Dumbledore died."  _Dumbledore!_  Harry shied quickly away from that subject.

"So we kept our meetings to a minimum." he finished shortly.  "Now, are you absolutely sure there's nothing you're keeping back about Markland?"  Ginny paused then took his hand; her eyes were intense and determined.

"Let's just check that out that theory of yours, shall we?" she said bravely, although her trembling fingers betrayed her.  "My turn, I believe.  Yes, Harry, there are a couple of things you don't know about David and me.  Let's see if the next mirror shows them; then at least we'll know where we stand."

"Wait a moment."  Harry considered.  "I know this might sound overly sensitive, considering our present position, but I have a small personal squick about watching my woman in bed with another man.  I'm sorry, Ginny – I know it wasn't pleasant for you to watch me with Cho, but two wrongs don't make a right.  I'd be grateful if we didn't have to go through it again."  Ginny smiled at his anxious face.

"Harry," she said, "I really have no desire to replay my first night with David either, but you've got to admit, it would be incontrovertible proof that your theory is correct."

"Yes, yes, I know."  Harry was nodding.  "But there must be an easier way.  Now, I'm not being prurient, Ginny, but if you _tell_ me about your first time – you and David – we might manage to avoid viewing it in technicolour."  Ginny blinked, slightly taken aback.

"Well, there's not a lot to tell, really." she said eventually.  "I mean, it's not like we were breaking school rules, like you and Cho.  We were both consenting adults, both unattached, unmarried.  I'm – not sure quite what to say about it, to be honest."

"Well then," Harry shook his head in vague confusion, "let's start at the beginning: when exactly did it happen?"  Huge brown eyes gazed unblinkingly into his.

"The night we met, Harry." she replied quietly.  "That very same night."  Harry's jaw dropped; he stared.  She shrugged.

"Sorry." she said in a false, rather brittle tone. "Something of a shock to realise how easy I am, isn't it?  Now you know what you're getting, are you sure you still want it?"  She turned away, tears pricking behind her eyes.  Harry grabbed her shoulders roughly and turned her round, forcing her to look at him.

"Yes, Ginny." he replied vehemently, small flexings of his fingers accompanying his words, giving them weight.  "Yes, I've always known what I was getting, and yes, I'm sure that's exactly what I want.  Now, let's look in that damn mirror and have done with it!"

Ginny gave a slight hiccup, visibly composed herself and approached the next mirror with extreme trepidation.  If Harry only knew what she dreaded seeing – a rerun of her first night with David would be a walk in the park by comparison.

No sooner than she glimpsed the images in the mirror, Ginny knew the game was up.  She gave a heartfelt groan of despair.

The scene was obviously a pub.  A group of people consisting of Fred, George, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were seated around a large oak table, taking in the scene and sampling the local drinks.  Strangely, the pub was not a wizard establishment, which fact was likely the cause of the slight unease permeating the group.

_"So, this is how the muggles enjoy themselves, huh?" George cautiously sipped his drink and made a face._

_"Ew!  Tastes like the stuff Madame Pomfrey used to put on cuts!"  Fred quickly removed George's glass and replaced it with his own._

_"You want to watch that stuff, bro." he replied smoothly to his twin's questioning look. "It's called a Screwdriver, and it has a kick like a mule.  I'd let you find out the hard way, but while we're still sharing a flat, I really don't want you puking over any part of it – including me!"  George's face registered nothing so much as puzzlement._

_"Why should this stuff make me sick?"  Fred sighed._

_"It's not what it does at the time," he explained patiently, "it's the after-effects.  Now be a good boy and drink your lemonade."  Hermione laughed._

_"So when do you plan on moving in with me, Fred?" she asked.  He pursed his lips._

_"Well," he began, "Our tenancy agreement isn't up till next month, and we've got to pay rent until then.  Seems a pity to give that tight-fisted old bat the chance to collect double."_

_"Oh, who cares!"  George took a gulp from his glass.  "Ah! That's better!  Seriously Fred, as soon as Ron gets the paperwork on his flat sorted, I'll be on his doorstep with my suitcases.  I'm fed up with having to tiptoe around to avoid waking up her darned cat.  It's like being back at Hogwarts – only Filch was friendlier!"_

_"She's becoming paranoid." Fred put in. "She doesn't really believe there's two of us, but she's greedy for the rent.  It's driving her absolutely nuts trying to work it out!  She tried to get what she called 'The Truth' out of Ginny last week, didn't she, Gin?  Hey, Ginny?"  The slender, elfin redhead ignored her brother, gazing fixedly onto the dance floor.  Her lips were vibrating slightly._

_"What's up, Gin?" asked Ron, leaning over to see if her drink needed replenishing.  The girl started violently then turned._

_"Nothing, Ron, really." she replied, a little too quickly.  To dispel her brother's suspicious stare, she took a quick sip of her drink and smiled broadly._

_"Just absorbed in the music." she told him.  "You know, I'm absolutely sure I could do better than that."  She pointed to a miniscule stage on which gyrated a girl scarcely out of her teens.  She was singing tunelessly along to a karaoke track out of the muggle top ten.  Ron winced and covered his ears._

_"I'm inclined to agree with you, sister mine." he replied.  "Frankly, even _I_ would be an improvement."  But Ginny had gone.  Craning his neck, he watched in amazement as she approached the DJ, shouting something in his ear.  The DJ took one look at her and nodded enthusiastically.  Before Ron could alert the others, Ginny had climbed onto the makeshift platform.  _

_What happened next was as surprising to the others as it was unsettling.  Firstly, Ginny took to the stage like she had been born to it, handling the microphone with ease and familiarity, moving rhythmically to the music, and lending an earthy rasp to the usual sweetness of her voice.  The pub went wild, stamping their feet and demanding an encore.  Ginny sang once more then refused all other blandishments, climbing firmly down from the stage and returning to the rest of the gang.  Ron was open-mouthed._

_"My owl, I didn't know you were that__ good, Ginny!" he exclaimed.  The others joined in the accolades, only Fred betraying a certain restraint in his compliments.  _

_A shadow fell over their table.  Ginny looked up to see a dark-haired, handsome face smiling urbanely at her._

_"Good evening." the stranger said.  "My name is David Markland.  I am a theatrical and musical agent.  I was most interested to witness your performance just now.  Most interested indeed."  Ginny's jaw dropped.  She looked as though someone had just hit her with a brick._

_"Th-thank you." she managed.  The stranger's smile broadened._

_"Perhaps you would do me the honour of lunching with me one day next week?" he asked smoothly.  "I would appreciate the opportunity to talk with you in depth about your musical talents.  Would Tuesday suit you?"_

_"That – would be marvellous." she responded breathlessly.  He nodded._

_"Tuesday then."  He scribbled something into a hand-held organiser then looked back into her eyes, holding out a hand._

_"Perhaps I might have this dance?" he asked with a smile.  "To tide me over until we meet again?"   Wordlessly, Ginny took the proffered hand and followed the stranger onto the dancefloor._

_As soon as they were out of earshot, George leaned over the table._

_"What the hell does she think she's doing, dancing with a muggle?" he hissed, trying to keep his indignation under control._

_"Who does that slimy git think he is, moving in on our sister?" Ron was even more outraged.  Hermione laid a warning hand on his arm and opened her mouth to utter soothing words, but Fred got in first._

_"I wouldn't be too quick to jump to her defence if I were you." he said quietly.  "I admit, I'm just as much in the dark about this, but I've a strong feeling our innocent little sister is not quite as naïve as she seems."_

 "What was that all about?" Harry muttered.  He turned to Ginny with a puzzled look to find her, face buried in her hands, breath coming in quiet gasps.

"Ginny," he said, shaking her arm gently, "It's okay – really.  Couldn't you face watching it?  It's alright, honestly – it wasn't anything salacious.  Actually, to be truthful, I'm not quite sure _what it was."_

"I know exactly what it was." her voice was muffled.  Harry's fingers began to stroke her arm automatically.

"What was there to be ashamed of in that little incident?" he wondered, half to himself.  "After all, you did nothing, Markland made all the running.  All you did was sing."

"Is that so?"  Ginny burst out, raising her head, a very peculiar expression in her eyes.  "Well, whoever, or whatever, is in control of this circus is making damn sure that every dirty little secret either of us has is going to be hung out to dry."  

Harry shook his head, completely in the dark.

"I'm sorry, my love." he told her.  "Painful as it obviously is, you're going to have to explain that one to me."

Ginny was silent for a long moment.  Finally, she gave an exasperated sigh and looked up at him.

"Alright." she replied in low tones.  "What you saw there was only an appearance, Fred had the rights of it.  He always did have a nice line in hunch – before Syrinx took all the guesswork out of it."

"An appearance?  What do you mean?"

"David didn't make the running, I did.  There, now you know."  Her face was crimson.  She stared at the floor in humiliation.

"How?" Harry was beginning to catch on.  Ginny sighed again.

"I used magic, okay?" she refused to meet his eyes.  "I noticed him as soon as we came into the pub.  I – I cast a spell over him."

"Flamel's Stone!" Harry was shocked.  "You used a love charm?  But why?  What made you want him so much?  And how did you get away with it?"  She was shaking her head violently.

"No, no!" she replied vehemently.  "Not a love charm!  Nothing like that – too close to Imperius for my liking, even if they weren't illegal."  She paused, swallowed then looked up at him again.

"I was fed up, Harry." she began, her lips in a tight line.  "I knew about you and Cho at Hogwarts, and I knew you were intending to live with her when you left.  When she died, I grieved for you – I really did! – but a treacherous little part of me wondered, hoped that maybe you'd look elsewhere for consolation.  Perhaps to me."  She hung her head.

"I knew you were living in London throughout my seventh year." she continued.  "Ron told me the occasional little piece of news.  It was through his letters that I learned you were buying a house.  Harry, I was so excited!" her eyes shone.  "Ron told me about the place, how big it was, how you were hoping to get as many of the old gang as possible to live there.  Hermione was helping you set it up.  It sounded perfect – Ron knew I was going to work for Ernie MacMillan at Wizarding Radio, so he said he'd fixed it with you for me to move in.  A dream come true!"  The light in her face faded.

"Then I discovered that far from living in the same house, I would be living a continent away from you."  Harry was cut to the quick by the sadness in her voice.

"It was the death knell for all my hopes and dreams." she told him.  "I knew then that I could never compete with Cho – a dead rival is almost impossible to supplant."  She hung her head, letting the memories wash over her.  

"That evening I was feeling fey." she continued.  "I had given up on you – you had already left for LA and I was trying to get you out of my system once and for all.  I saw David and decided to see if I could get him to dance with me.  Just to prove that I could still cut it, okay?  So – I used an Allure.  I'm ashamed to admit to it, because it was an underhand thing to do.  I don't mind using Glamours, but Allures only serve one purpose – to attract someone specifically into your sphere of influence.  That was precisely what I had in mind for David, and it worked – far too well!"

"However," she gave Harry a wry smile. "The whole thing spiralled completely out of my control, and I ended up in a relationship that was as debilitating as it was doomed.  So if you want poetic justice, I'm your girl!"

"And then I came home."

"And turned my life upside down once again."  Harry sighed.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"What, before you went to LA?  I was at Hogwarts, remember?  And it wasn't exactly the sort of thing I could put in a letter."

"But I stayed at The Burrow several times while you were at home.  Surely you could have …"  Harry trailed off at the look of desolation on her face.

"I tried." she managed in a small voice.  Harry furrowed his brow.

"When?"  She shook her head.  He grasped her shoulders.

"Come on, Ginny.  No secrets, remember?"  Her eyes were very wide and brown.

"I can't tell you," she whispered, "but if your theory is correct – I can show you."

The next mirror was small and oval in shape with an exquisite china frame made from carefully interlaced leaves and flowers.  The pastel glazes were delicate and light, and the whole effect was fresh and natural.

The same untidy garden, the same oak tree, but no treehouse now and a few flowers in the borders.  A young man with messy black hair lay motionless in the long grass, an arm flung across his face to shield his eyes from the summer sun.  He wore faded cutoff jeans and a worn grey teeshirt that merely accentuated rather than concealed firm biceps and pecs; Harry was growing out of his schoolboy slenderness and putting on some muscle.

_"I'll conjure some shades for you, if you like."  He stirred at the sound of a feminine voice and looked up at the pretty redhead standing over him.  The summer sun had coloured her fair skin a pale apricot, and a light dusting of freckles covered her nose and cheeks.  Her long, long hair was twisted back into a haphazard knot, tendrils of it escaping to cascade down her back and across her face.  Her thin dress of white cotton billowed attractively in the slight breeze.  Harry smiled, squinting up at her._

_"Thanks, Ginny," he replied, "but I'll make do."  He wriggled his bare toes in the cool turf and sighed contentedly.  She sank down on the soft lawn beside him and a companionable silence fell.  She idly plucked blades of grass, splitting the stems to nibble on the sweet centres.  White clouds drifted across the creamy blue sky; birdsong was the only sound to disturb the peace of an August afternoon._

_"Harry." Ginny said in a thoughtful tone._

_"Mmm?"_

_"Do you miss Cho?"  There was a slightly startled silence then Ginny blushed crimson with embarrassment._

_"Oh, I'm so sorry – I didn't mean it like that.  It's just …" She trailed off and looked at the ground, but she was no coward – she finished her sentence._

_"I just wondered if you'll ever – well – get over her." _

_Harry remained motionless for a short while then he sat up, leaning his elbows on his knees.  His expression was wistful._

_"I don't know, Gin." he replied.  "This isn't the first time I've been bereaved, but it's the closest.  It's difficult to know how long it'll take me to achieve what the Americans call 'closure'."  Ginny took a shaky breath._

_"Perhaps I could – help you?  You know, maybe we could go to some places together, do things, have some fun.  After all, we are __friends."  Harry smiled, but Ginny didn't see it.  Her cheeks still afire, she seemed to have found something extremely interesting in the grass beneath her feet.  The next thing she knew, her own small hand had been taken in Harry's larger one and a gentle kiss had been planted on her cheek.  She flushed even more deeply, her heart thudding wildly._

_"Thank you, Ginny." he said warmly. "That's a very kind thought.  You never know – I might be able to take you up on it some time.  When I come back on visits, of course."  Ginny frowned and looked up._

_"Visits?"  Harry started._

_"Oh, didn't I tell you?"  He frowned, clicking his tongue in irritation.  "No, I didn't.  I'm sorry – you weren't there when I told the family yesterday.  Ginny." Harry turned to take both her hands in his._

_"Ginny, I've been offered the most fantastic opportunity." his eyes lit up.  "I've landed a fascinating post at UWIZ in London.  It's a Lectureship in DADA and Magical Artefacts – what do you think of that?"  A broad grin spread over Ginny's features._

_"Oh, Harry!" she squeaked.  "That's absolutely marvellous news!"  Spontaneously, she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him._

_"When do you start?"_

_"At the end of the summer." he replied.  "Mind you, I've got to get my stuff sorted, put some of it into store – you know the sort of thing."  Ginny frowned in puzzlement._

_"Into store?  But I thought you already had a house fixed up.  Hermione's been going crazy about colour schemes for the past six months."  Harry slapped a palm against his head in impatience._

_"I'm really not telling this very well, am I?" he smiled.  "My job is with UWIZ, but it's a secondment to LA, to the Wizarding University there.  They've asked UWIZ for me, and it's such a marvellous opportunity that I can't turn it down.  The contract's for three years, renewable after two.  Just think, Ginny!  All that sun, sea and surf!"_

_"But – but what about the house?  I thought you were going to live in London."  Ginny's voice was quiet but it shook slightly._

_"So did I," replied Harry, totally oblivious to her reaction, "but when this opportunity came up, I reckoned it was perfect.  I need to get away from England, Ginny – too many memories."  His smile faded.  He stretched out in the grass and stared up into the sky once again. Ginny sat near him, still and silent as stone._

_"I'll get back every now and then – Hermione's keeping a room for me at the house."  He pursed his lips.  "You know, we really should think of a name for it – we can't keep calling it The House.  Any ideas, Gin?  Ginny?"  He turned his head then sat up to see her running at full pelt towards the house.  He called once then, receiving no reply, shrugged and lay down again to enjoy the all too infrequent English sunshine._

The picture faded.  Harry sighed and lowered his eyes.

"I'm sorry." he whispered, not looking at her.

"Don't be." she replied, equally quietly.  "How were you to know that I loved you – even then?"

"If I'd taken you a little more seriously …" he trailed off.  She shook her head firmly.

"What's done is done, Harry, nothing can change it.  It wasn't your fault, but by being so blind you drove me – indirectly, of course – into David's arms."  Harry gave a wry smile.

"Well, at least that one seems to have been judged history." he said, squaring his shoulders.  She nodded.

"I think you know all there is to know, all the nasty little secrets about that part of my life." she agreed.  "Now think carefully, Harry – is there anything left for you to tell me?  Any other romantic entanglements?  Pre- or post- Cho?  Anything that happened in LA?"  Harry was shaking his head firmly.

"No, Ginny, I told you the truth when we first got together." he replied.  "After Cho died, I didn't dare risk another relationship and, prior to her, I was a complete innocent.  I have no other skeletons of that type in my closet."  He held her gaze steadily; she nodded.

"No more surprises, Harry," she said quietly, "just truths."

The linked hands one more and together they moved slowly down the endless corridor.

~oo0oo~

**Author's Notes****:  Many thanks for the reviews, Iggly Wiggly, Qaera and Dreamgirl.  This was a difficult chapter to write because in order to get the logistics to work, I needed to write the next one alongside it.  It took a long time, and I'm still not totally convinced I got it right.  I'm tying up a lot of loose ends here in this story, and it's "doin' my 'ead in", as the Eastenders say.  _Someone_ is going to find _something_ I've missed, that's for sure!**


	15. The Oldest Place

Disclaimer:  _This story is written for the purposes of my own amusement and, hopefully, that of my readers, and no profit of any kind is being generated by it or by either of its prequels.  All characters and history belong to J.K. Rowling and to whomsoever she has licensed her creations at the present time.  I own the plot and the odd original character, nothing else._

**_Sorcerors' Endgame_** A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Penpusher Sequel to "By the Pricking of My Thumbs" 

**Chapter Fourteen: The Oldest Place**

 "We are getting close; I can hear faint conversation."  

Katia's voice had sunk to a murmur.  The darkness was almost impenetrable; the other four wizards had cast light charms to illuminate their way, but the Mexican woman was still refusing to use magic.  Lucius and MacNair jeered at her, and their obvious contempt made it more and more difficult for Katia to drag any kind of respect for her authority out of the other two Deatheaters or even, Merlin preserve her, the three muggle heavies.

Lucius Malfoy stood closely by her side.  She resisted the urge to shrink away from him, although his nearness repulsed her almost to nausea.  With her jungle-trained senses, Katia could tease out the difference between the normal nightly noises of the forest and the murmur of human conversation.  Lucius had no such abilities.

"I can't hear anything above this infernal din." he responded irritably, his breath gusting in her hair.

"That is because you are deaf and blind to the natural world." the girl responded, with no particular inflection in her voice.  "Trust me as one who knows; those whom we seek are ahead of us, probably only by about five hundred yards."  Lucius frowned at the unsympathetic description of his lack of skills, but brightened at the prospect of some serious evildoing in the very near future.

"Five hundred yards, you say?  Splendid.  MacNair!" he hailed his chief henchman and they put their heads together in swift discussion.  Katia glanced disdainfully in their direction, but gave no sign that she was in any way bothered by her exclusion from the council of war.  She returned to her lookout duties.  Presently, the two senior wizards called their companions over to explain their strategy.  Katia listened, but offered no response.

~oo0oo~

The next mirror was cracked and stained.  At first, it was difficult to distinguish anything behind its murky surface, but gradually Ginny found she could make out a location that seemed vaguely familiar.  Back came the memories with a rush of blood to her head.  She gritted her teeth, refusing to faint, scorning to look away.  It was only what she had expected after all.

Harry stared impassively at the glass as a scene he had imagined all too often at his darkest moments was played out before his eyes then he turned his head and stared at the ground.

"I will not see." he muttered between his teeth.

"You must."  Ginny's voice was calm but implacable.  Harry looked up sharply.

"Why?" he said resentfully.

"Because if you don't there will always be a part of me that remains distant, separate from you.  You will never know what really happened or how I truly felt about it – and you will never fully trust me."  Despite her paper-white face and trembling hands, Ginny's voice was level and composed.  For a long moment their eyes locked, then Harry bowed his head and returned his gaze to the mirror.

He clenched and unclenched his hands as the pale, cold fingers ran through long, red hair, over smooth shoulders and further down; as Ginny herself, like an automaton, loosened her own clothing, lay down upon the unmade bed waiting passively.  He watched motionless until the mirror became blank, then in unreasoning rage, raised his fist to smash it.

"No, Harry, don't!" Ginny caught his hand in both of hers and forced him to look into her grief-stricken eyes.  There he saw it all.  All the pain and anguish, all the humiliation, the shame brought to her by that ill-concocted enchantment.  Her horror at her own actions, her memories of lust, of driving passion for someone whose very existence should have been abhorrent to her, her ambivalence and confusion over her true feelings for Draco; gratitude for his having spared her, pity for his resulting suffering, curiosity and fear as to his motives, a certain fascination with the unanswered questions about him.  And more.  

_What's this? thought Harry.  __Dobby?  You used Dobby to help Draco escape from his father?  Why?  _

**_A life for a life, Harry. _** was the despairing reply.  **_I owed him a debt for sparing me_**_.  _

And Harry understood.  With a surge of grief as great as her own, Harry reached out to enfold the girl in his arms, embracing as he did so the knowledge he had tried to deny.  There was a strange shift, a rippling in time and space, as though reality had somehow stepped up a gear.

"Thank you." she said quietly.  He nodded, smiling.

"You're welcome."  Their surroundings stabilised.  There was no further need for conversation; another mirror hung in plain sight.

~oo0oo~

Ginny approached the mirror with some puzzlement.  Things were starting to get a little more serious.  They'd gone through the childhood sins, the various romantic entanglements, her confusion over her near-rape – what more lay in store for them?  Were there more deeply buried secrets in Harry's mind; things she had to come to terms with?

This mirror was Spartan, full of hard edges and stainless-steel angles.  Ginny peered into its depths, having no idea what she might be shown, what fresh horrors it could heap on her.  She wrinkled her forehead in puzzlement as a scene began to materialize, the only hint as to the nature of its contents being a soft gasp from Harry.

A mountain-top, bare and barren with the odd scrubby tree and patch of heather.  The wind was bitter and there was little shelter.  Two figures stood on a narrow ledge, one tall with dark, messy hair which kept blowing into his bespectacled eyes, the other, shorter but stocky with light brown hair.  He seemed to be burrowing into the rock at the side of the mountain.

_"Nearly there!" the brown-haired wizard gasped.  His head and shoulder were jammed hard against the cliff face; his arm was extended deep into a fissure.  He was struggling to extend his reach; Harry was holding him steady._

_"Got it!" the man withdrew his arm slowly and carefully to reveal a gloved hand clutching what looked like a blackened and decaying mass of sackcloth.  Oblivious of their precarious position, the two wizards excitedly bent their heads over their find.  Tearing aside the rotting layers, the brown-haired wizard suddenly revealed something burnished bright, glowing with a keen radiance.  Slowly, reverently he held it aloft._

_"The Amulet!"  The dark-haired one made no attempt to touch the thing, merely stared at it with wide green eyes. _

_It was a necklace made of pure, untarnished gold.  More of a collar than a chain, the object was fashioned from decorative panels of gold carefully linked together to sit perfectly over the neck and shoulders.  In the centre panel glowed a deep red stone as large as a bird's egg._

_Exultantly, the brown-haired wizard held the artefact up to the sky, his face alight with triumph.  The other man tried to reach for the necklace, but lowered his arm in faint puzzlement as his companion whisked it out of his reach._

_"Not this time, Harry." he whispered.  "At least, not until I have become attuned to the jewel.  Then I might let you look at it – for a moment or two!"  Harry's mouth set in a firm line._

_"Jacob, you've read enough about this thing to know." he replied.  "The Amulet has immense powers, but there is no morality in the thing.  It is neither a force for good, nor for evil, but can be used by both sides."_

_"Don't lecture me, Potter!" the other snapped irritably.  "I've heard enough of your lectures to last a lifetime!"_

_"However," Harry continued, as if his companion had not spoken, "its tremendous power has a corrupting influence on any wielder.  I have long suspected that you pursued this thing for purposes very different from my own.  Tell me, Jacob; what do you intend to do with the power it will give you?"  The brown haired wizard smiled almost lazily._

_"Why, take revenge, Harry – what else?"  The dark-haired one nodded._

_"Revenge." he replied quietly, as though he were speaking of their next meal.  "Yes, I should have realised.  But somehow I thought you were big enough to work through that."_

_"Work through it?" Jacob's face twisted with a mixture of disbelief and scorn.  "Harry, you don't 'work through' something like that, for Merlin's sake!  You don't forgive and forget the torture and murder of your parents for witchcraft – trial by fire, they called it! – the suicide of your older sister and your own banishment from the only place you had ever called home!"  Harry shrugged._

_"I had to." he replied simply.  Jacob nodded, rising fury evident in his face._

_"Oh, yes!" he replied.  "The Famous Harry Potter, the great white hope of the magical world.  The rest of us poor squibs have known your story all our lives!  The deaths of your parents, then of your fiancé, your valiant battle against the Dark Side – oh, yes.  I had all that forced down my throat since babyhood.  Well, not everyone is as forebearing, as forgiving as you seem to be, perfect being that you are.  Some of us want payment for services rendered.  And together with this," he held the jewel up before him with an exultant grin, "I will extract that payment."_

_"On a helpless village of primitive people who knew no better?" Harry was struggling to keep him voice calm.  "What kind of justice is that?  Are you going to slaughter their women and children too?  Flamel's Stone, Jacob, half of them weren't born when your parents were killed!"_

_"As if that matters!"  Jacob was shouting in fury, baring his teeth.  "'The sins of the fathers shall be visited on the sons'.__  That's what the muggles say.  It sounds eminently suitable to me."  He paused, examining the artefact carefully for a clasp then looked up once more._

_"All that is required, Harry," he continued, "all I have to do is put this collar around my neck – just lower it over my head – and the process will begin automatically.  After that – boom!"  He giggled happily.  "The village of my family's slayers goes up in smoke!"_

_"So," Harry stepped closer, looking him directly in the eye.  "These people hurt you, yes?  So you kill them.  That sounds like Voldemort's philosophy to me.  He killed people because they got in his way, because they annoyed him, because he didn't like them.  Okay, so who's next, eh?"  He paused, glaring hard a Jacob._

_"Who else will you decide wronged you in the past and doesn't deserve to live?" he continued.  "A rival in love?  A teacher?  An ex-girlfriend?  A whole country full of people whose religion you object to?"  Harry shook his head._

_"Jacob, I'm sorry." he said more quietly.  "I should have seen earlier that your eagerness for me to accompany you on this quest sprang from very different motives to those you professed.  If it hadn't been for you, I would never have taken the old legends seriously, and the Amulet would have been left here, possibly forever."  Harry sighed._

_"I can't let you do it." he said softly.  Jacob stared disbelievingly then gave a short bark of laughter._

_"Just try and stop me!" he responded and with that he ducked his head, slipping the heavy collar around his neck.  His exultant shout slammed back again and again in echoes from the surrounding mountains.  Immediately the huge red stone began to glow, its rosy light etching the lines of triumph in Jacob's face.  Harry lowered his eyes in pain and grief._

_"Forgive me, my friend." he murmured quietly, and then he struck.  _

_Suddenly and without warning, Harry drove his fist into the other's stomach, hard and with deadly accuracy.  Jacob doubled up with a rush of air.  As the other man's head came down, Harry ripped the collar from his neck, bringing his knee up to take him under the chin.  The impact was like a pistol shot: Jacob reeled, already only semi-conscious.  His body teetered, recovered then tipped slowly over the precipice, tumbling soundlessly into oblivion.  Clutching the Amulet, Harry sank to his knees, leaning so far over the ledge an observer could be forgiven for thinking he was trying to follow his victim into the abyss._

"Forgive me." he whispered.

Ginny gulped, swallowing bile.  This had not been easy to watch.  She had always known that there was a streak of steel in Harry that made him utterly ruthless in some situations, but this was something else.  This was murder.

She turned to him, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly.  She simply had no words.  Harry sighed.

"That is one episode in my life I try very hard not to remember."  He said quietly.

"I can see why!"  Ginny bit her tongue; she had not meant to sound quite so tart.  Harry looked down at his shoes, shuffling his feet.

"Yes." he said eventually.  "It can't be easy, finding out that your lover is a murderer."

"Are you?"  There was a long pause then Harry gave a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

"Technically, I suppose I am." he finished quietly.  Ginny raised her large solemn eyes to his and waited patiently.

"Jacob was a student of mine." he began.  "Well, actually he was on an exchange from another university.  He was Caucasian, but had been born in China, in a remote village where his parents had been missionaries.  They were killed when he was just ten years old.  He had an elder sister, about sixteen, already at university, who committed suicide a few years earlier."  Harry paused for a moment to take himself back.

"Jacob was – a very compelling sort of person." Harry continued.  "I learned very early on that his parents had been killed by the villagers they trusted, for witchcraft, but what I didn't know was that Jacob himself was responsible for the events that led to their trial and subsequent sentence.  They were muggles, you see, and they had no idea what their son was.  After their deaths, the Chinese authorities came to take Jacob away, but luckily for him, he was spotted by a very low ranking diplomat, part of the entourage surrounding the Australian Minister for Magic."  Harry smiled.  "He was very fortunate indeed – diplomatic relations with China are quite difficult, and there are few visits of this type.  Anyway, the Aussie Ministry pulled a few strings and took Jacob back to Sydney.  He told me it was something like waking up from a nightmare – and sometimes like falling into one!"

"How did he make the adjustment from a primitive Chinese village to modern-day Australia?"  Ginny was clearly absorbed by Harry's narrative.

"Very easily – or so it seemed." replied Harry.  "He was extremely intelligent – English was his first language, but he spoke a number of different Chinese dialects.  The villagers had used him as an interpreter.  It took him longer, though, to accept his magical talents.  To do so, he had to come to terms with his involvement in his parents' fate at the hands of the villagers."

"And did he?"  Harry nodded.

"Eventually, yes." he replied.  "He seemed very well adjusted when I met him.  Except on this one issue; he wanted to go back to China.  He was convinced he knew the whereabouts of a very esoteric artefact called Aurora's Amulet.  It was said to be capable of conveying enormous powers on its owner, both destructive as well as beneficial.  Jacob's research indicated that it owes its existence to the Norwegian wizard Thonar.  Reputedly, he stole the central jewel from his rival, Wodan, and fled with it to the earth's most northerly point.  Once there, he wove an awesome piece of magic that trapped the power of the Aurora Borealis, or Northern Lights, into the jewel.  In doing so, he forfeited some of his own power, but he also managed to trap a portion of magic belonging to his rival, Wodan.  Oddly enough, when Wodan finally caught up with him, instead of fighting to the death, they became allies, and Thonar had the stone set into a great golden collar of singular design.  It became his trademark, and he was never separated from it, even for a moment.  After his death, Wodan searched for the Amulet for years, but failed to find any trace of it."  Harry paused for a moment, reflecting.  Ginny frowned.

"I assume Jacob persuaded you to go with him!"  Harry nodded.

"Yes." he replied, and shrugged vaguely.  "What can I say?  I was very new at the job, and ambitious; I needed one major find to help push me into the top league where I could compete with the big boys."  He sighed.  "I was also inexperienced with people.  I allowed myself to be persuaded over what was, in all honesty, my better judgment.  I ignored my misgivings and threw myself into the project with a whole heart.  It was only when we actually reached China that I started to suspect Jacob might not be entirely balanced about the project."  Harry turned to look into Ginny's eyes and spread his hands helplessly.

"I had no choice but to go on." he said.  "By this time, Jacob knew as much as I did, and there was no way I was going to persuade him to walk away from it.  If I hadn't gone with him, he would have found the thing on his own, and Merlin knows what would have happened."  Harry pushed sweaty hair back from his forehead.

"Ginny, I truly believe he was capable of wreaking just as much havoc on the world as Voldemort ever did – and I set him on that path!  What he would ultimately have done, there is no way of knowing now, but I just couldn't take the risk."  Harry fell silent, gazing sightlessly at the floor.

"So you decided he had to be stopped – permanently?"  Harry frowned, shaking his head violently.

"No, no.  You're not listening!" he tried to explain.  "I never _intended to kill him.  I – I'd never killed anyone, before or since.  Even though I've been involved in some nasty situations involving broken bones and the like, there's never been any question of lifetaking.  I spent a few sleepless nights going round and round in circles; you see, I reckoned I knew what he would try to do with the Amulet.  I also knew he would kill me without a second thought if he so much as suspected that I would try to stop him."_

Ginny stood in complete bewilderment.  Until a few moments ago, she had been prepared to swear on anything holy that Harry would never hurt a fly.  Or had she?  Her forehead wrinkled in concentration.

Wasn't that one of the reasons she loved Harry as much as she did – as she always had?  Because he was prepared to go the extra mile, hang on just a little longer, put in just that bit more for the sake of what he held as true?  Harry had never in his life done anything by halves.  He had defended her physically on more than one occasion, and he had never hesitated to use force when necessary – but _only when there was no alternative.  He had seen more evil and wickedness before he left Hogwarts than the average Auror would encounter in their entire working life.  Surely his instinct over this deluded young wizard was sound?  Wasn't it?_

Ginny looked around.  Harry stood unmoving, face turned towards the floor.  Tears trickled down his cheeks, dripping silently onto the flagstones beheath.

"He wasn't just a student, Ginny." he whispered.  "I loved him.  I loved Jacob – like the son I believed I would never have.  Oh, I know there were only a few years between us, but the horrors we had seen had affected us in directly opposite ways.  I was older than my years, staid and unwilling to take risks.  Jake was – mischievous, irresponsible.  It was as though he had spent all his life with adults, and was only just beginning to appreciate what childhood really was.  And for all I know, that speculation could be accurate."  He took a shaky breath, his lower lip trembling.

"I couldn't let him do it, Ginny."  Harry's voice was almost a whisper.  "All those innocent people – women and children!  He would have killed them all, and for what?  Would their murder have brought his parents back?  His sister?  I killed him, Ginny.  Your lover is a murde …"  Almost violently, Ginny pulled him into her arms, smothering the word before he could fully vocalise it.

"Whatever you've done, you belong with me!" she whispered fiercely.  "Don't ever forget that.  But Harry, everything you did was for the best.  I believe in you – I trust your judgment.  You saved those people – and the rest of us too – from a terrible fate!"

"That my lack of judgment was, in part, responsible for in the first place!" Harry replied wryly, searching vainly for a handkerchief.  Ginny shook her head, feeling in her pockets.  Pulling out a vaguely clean scrap of linen, she dabbed at his tear-stained face.

"That poor young man." she murmured, gently wiping away moisture.

"Indeed."  Harry sighed sadly.  "So much promise, so much talent – wasted."

"And the Amulet now resides in Gringotts, I suppose?"  Harry nodded.

"Too dangerous to be anywhere else." he replied.  "It turned out to be so powerful that only a few people were made aware of its existence.  The Ministry intends to keep it that way."

"So after all that, you never did get the boost to your career that you wanted?"  Harry shrugged.

"It got me noticed by some high-up people," he replied diffidently, "and to be honest, by that stage, I really didn't care.  Jake was dead and gone, and a large part of my life seemed to die with him.  I became pretty much convinced that I was a jinx on anything or anyone I touched.  I slunk back to LA with my tail between my legs and went into hibernation.  Not long afterwards, Neville got the job with Gringotts and took an apartment fairly near to mine."  A ghost of a smile settled on Harry's lips.

"I think it was his total helplessness that winkled me out of my shell." he commented dryly.  "He was so inept I couldn't believe he'd got the job on merit – I kept asking him in a roundabout way who in his family had pulled strings for him!"

"Oh, Harry!" Ginny was starting to smile.  "I must admit, I never thought Neville would be responsible for bringing you out of a depression; it's much more likely that he'd push you into one!"  Harry gave a laugh; a pale and feeble attempt, it was true, but Ginny took it as a sign that he was prepared to go on, despite the cost, and even in the face of whatever further horrors the corridor of mirrors might hold.

As he blew his nose and pushed his wayward hair away from his face, Harry was not so sure.

~oo0oo~

As soon as he laid eyes on the next mirror, Harry knew he could not go through with this one.  Huge, square and gilt-framed with a carved phoenix at the top, Harry was immediately reminded of Dumbledore – and of Sirius' revelations.

Recent events had descended upon them far too quickly for Harry to think about the ramifications of that bombshell.  On seeing the mirror, with the certain knowledge of what it contained, Harry realised that he had not buried the information in his subconscious as he had thought, but had merely set it aside.  He had tried to deal with the problem by refusing to acknowledge it.  He had persistently failed to confide in Ginny because to deny the existence of such great treachery was an easier route than to face up to its implications.  He shook his head.

"Ginny, I can't do this."  She stared at him, a frown gathering between her eyebrows.

"But Harry – you don't even know what it will show!"  He shook his head.

"Oh yes I do." he replied, too quickly.  "I know precisely what it will show – and I can't go through with it, I'm sorry."  He turned away, staring at the floor.  Ginny's lips thinned.

"Harry, whatever it is you have to face up to it," she told him, "and so do I.  How can it be any worse than what we've already been through?"  He turned to her, his mouth working, his eyes panic-stricken.  Ginny felt her stomach clench with dread.

"Ginny," Harry managed, eventually, "it will destroy your world, all your beliefs!   This is something I learned quite recently, but I could never face telling you, let alone anyone else.  Please – we have to let sleeping dogs lie.  This one has got to stay where it is."  She was shaking her head.

"If we don't go the whole way, we might just as well have never started this." she told him firmly.  "Harry, I don't care what it is – I have to share it with you."  Without further ado, she stepped up to the mirror, shaking off his restraining hands.

"NO!"  Harry pulled her away, turning her to face him.  He swallowed, calming himself visibly.

"Okay," he said, "okay – you have to know.  That's – alright.  But I'm going to tell you.  Me.  I'm not going to let some damn mirror show you.  _I'm going to do it – like I should have done in the first place.  Oh, Merlin, help me!"  He paused, shaking.  Her huge brown eyes stared into his frightened green ones with calm certitude, then suddenly Ginny knew.  She gasped with horror, the blood draining from her cheeks.  _

**_Dumbledore betrayed us?  Oh no, Harry, anything but that!_**

_I'm sorry – Sirius was absolutely sure of his facts.  There can be no mistake.  _

****

**_There must be something that was overlooked – I just can't believe … Harry, he spent his life fighting evil!_**

_The best of us can be suborned. _

****

**_Perhaps Sirius …_**

_Don't even think it, Ginny!_

There was a shocked gasp.  Harry opened his eyes, unsure when he had closed them, to see Ginny holding a hand over her mouth.

**_Do that again._**

_Do what? _

****

**_That._**

_You mean talk to you?  What's special about that?_

****

**_You're not talking, silly._**

_Oh, no?  So what am I doing then?_

****

There was a profound silence.

~oo0oo~

"A word in your ear, Mr. Black."  The dark-haired wizard looked up from where he had been brooding silently.

"Please – call me Sirius." he responded, getting to his feet.  "What is it Mouse?"  The muggle smiled, scratching his head awkwardly.

"Well, Sirius," he began, "it's like this.  I don't understand what's goin' on here.  That's no surprise, seein' as I ain't any kind of a wizard, but I do got some kind of a nose for danger.  An' I'm tellin' you, I can smell danger so strong it stinks to high heaven!"  Sirius stroked his unshaven chin thoughtfully.

"Mouse," he said eventually, "at any other time, I'd tell you to leave Divination to the experts – but right now my own antennae are buzzing like a hive of bees.  You're right – of course you're right! – but what can we do?  We don't know where or when they'll strike, and we can't leave here without Harry and Ginny."  He sighed.

"We're sitting ducks," he finished gloomily, "and there's not a thing we can do about it!"

As though he had been listening for his cue, Lucius Malfoy strolled calmly into the clearing, wand at the ready, wearing a sickeningly triumphant smile.

"Afternoon, Black." he said carelessly.  "All present and correct, are you?  Or do we have to take the place apart before we kill you?"

"_Fred!_" yelled Sirius, instantly diving for the ground and reaching for his wand in one movement.  Backing towards the others, wand brandished threateningly, Sirius felt his heart sink; they were surrounded.

The little group of wizards clustered around Syrinx, instinctively trying to protect her.  However, they were gravely outnumbered, and their opponents appeared to have considerable muggle backup into the bargain.  

Sirius' horrified expression became thoughtful as he glanced quickly around, sizing up the enemy.  Lucius Malfoy was potentially a powerful threat, but rumour had it that big business and all the trappings of the high life had sapped his skills somewhat.  MacNair was a familiar and detested presence; Sirius could not suppress an involuntary hiss of disgust on recognising him.  The next two wizards were unfamiliar to him, but his breath caught in his throat at the sight of the last.

"Katia!" he breathed, unable to tear his eyes away from her face.  This was very bad news.

"Sirius."  She nodded coolly, but the hatred in her eyes was like fire.  _I'm dead._ Sirius thought bleakly.  She took a step towards him then paced backwards and forwards in a slow, leisurely fashion.

"It has been a long time," she said quietly, "unless you count that last little encounter in the deep interior of Yucatan.  You weren't quite yourself then, as I recall."

"No, I wasn't," Sirius replied staring her down, "and if my memory serves me correctly, neither were you, having just been arrested at the time."  Katia flushed and immediately abandoned her calm demeanour.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance!" she snarled.  "If I had only duelled with you, you would be food for maggots now!"  Sirius nodded solemnly.

"Only too true, I fear," he replied, "but for the fact that I would never have stood still and let you do it.  I'd have taken to my heels and headed for the hills as soon as you drew your wand."  Katia sneered.

"Coward!"

"Not exactly."  Outwardly calm, Sirius was beginning to wonder where this was going.  "I'm just fully aware of my own limitations.  And I also have a healthy respect for those whose skills are greater than mine, even if they are derived from evil sources."  The dark woman spat contemptuously.

"You always were weak." she replied nastily.  "You were too spineless, too pathetic to grasp the best offer you ever had.  The world could have been ours for the taking – and why not?  What did either of us ever owe anyone except ourselves?  But no.  Instead, you chose to crawl back to the very people who ground you into the dust the first time."  She threw back her head in disgust.

"You are beneath my disdain.  Even the carrion-feeders, the vultures, have more pride than you!"

"That may be so," Sirius' voice was calm. "but I prefer to let the world go its own way and keep my immortal soul.  Oh Katia!"  He stared into her scornful face in despair, all his emotional defences collapsing at the sight of her.

"I'm sorry – oh, you don't know how sorry I am that we have come to this!" His voice sank to a whisper so quiet that only the woman standing before him could hear his words.  His eyes were dark with regret.

"I loved you once." Her head jerked up sharply at his words.

"You led me to believe you did."  Her voice was little more than a murmur, but the tone was bitter.  Sirius sighed.

"I told the truth."  The naked hate in her face was too much for him to bear; he lowered his eyes.

"If you hope to distract me from my purpose," she told him coolly, "then you will be sadly disappointed."  Sirius shook his head without looking up.

"I hope for nothing, not even death."

"Oh, death you will certainly receive, of _that_ you may be perfectly assured!"

"We're wasting time."  Lucius Malfoy, bored with an interaction in which he had no part, stepped between them impatiently.  He glanced swiftly over the little party, frowning as his eyes lit upon Syrinx.  He summoned the three muggle heavies.

"Search them." he ordered peremptorily.  "Strip them if necessary."  Guru moved quickly to shield his daughter.  The largest muggle – a thickset gorilla with a hairline so low it met his eyebrows – frowned at Lucius.

"Strip them – what, you mean everything?  Toenails, teeth, hair?"  Lucius sighed in an exaggerated fashion and shook his head impatiently.

"Just start with their belongings." he replied.  "We'll get to the rest all in good time."  As the three muggles began dismantling the meagre stack of luggage, Lucius turned back to Sirius.

"Where are Potter and the Weasley girl?"  Sirius shrugged.

"I don't know."

"Do you think I'm stupid?  There are many ways of making you talk."

"That's assuming that I have anything to talk about.  And incidentally: yes, Lucius, I do indeed think that you have reached staggeringly new heights of stupidity, even for the Dark Side, if you propose to wring information out of me that I simply do not possess."  Lucius glared.

"You're lying, Black!"

"I'm telling the truth – but then you wouldn't know the truth if it jumped up and bit you!"  Sirius laughed, a strained, tense sound, but nevertheless genuine.

"You forget, Lucius, I'm the only one here who knows what a horse's arse you were at Hogwarts." he drawled, affecting a nonchalance he did not feel.  Lucius stiffened; Sirius forced himself to relax.

"Did I touch a nerve there, Lucius?  I'm _so_ sorry."  He paused then frowned reflectively.

"Actually, that's not true." he said with an amiable smile.  "I'm not sorry.  I'm not sorry at all, because it's the truth.  Lucius, you were, and still are, a total pratt, for all your jumped up family history and your inherited wealth.  It was a complete mystery to everyone how you managed to persuade Narcissa to marry you, particularly since at the beginning of our seventh year, she described you as the biggest jerk ever to lift a wand."  He grinned, almost enjoying himself.

"Ah, but now I know a little more about how things work in your world, Lucius."  Sirius was beginning to feel light-headed.  "I've always been insatiably curious – you remember that about me, don't you, from Hogwarts days? – and I made it my business to find out a few things about you.  Narcissa was the only Slytherin I ever had any time for, and that wasn't just because she was the prettiest girl in our year.  There was more to Narcissa than just her looks, although I expect you never even came close to finding that out!"

"Enough!"  Lucius was purple with rage.  He raised his wand, his lips already forming the beginning of the killing curse.  Sirius steeled himself for oblivion; well, at least he'd gone out with a bang.

"That's very interesting.  Very interesting indeed."  The familiar nasal drawl cut through the atmosphere like a scalpel.  "I fully appreciate your desire to decorate the scenery with Black's entrails, but perhaps, when you've finished, I could trouble you for some information on the subject in question – father!"  Lucius froze.  Slowly, his wand still raised, he turned to face the slight, blonde-haired figure who had appeared as if from nowhere.

"Draco?" he whispered uncertainly.  His son smiled.

"The very same." he announced with totally unnecessary bravado.  "Strictly speaking, I should have AK'd you from where I was hiding in the bushes, but there were a couple of minor points which argued against that plan of action.  Firstly, as you well know, I have a certain difficulty with that particular spell," Lucius guffawed rudely. "and secondly, I would really prefer to have you alive, at least for the next few minutes, so that you can enlighten me on an item of recent family history."  Lucius raised his eyebrows.

"Oh?" he queried sardonically. "And what piece of our glorious heritage might that be?  Most of our doings are covered in tedious detail in the comprehensive volumes of family history housed in the Malfoy Manor library, you know that."  Draco shook his head, still smiling faintly.

"The information I seek concerns two individuals, both deceased, whose deaths occurred within the last decade."  His level gaze did not falter for one moment.  "My mother, Narcissa Malfoy, and my sister, Aurora Malfoy."  Draco paused for a moment to regroup, then continued in a voice that could have cut steel.

"I have very good reason to believe that you know rather more about their deaths than you have ever admitted, either publicly or privately."  Lucius did not miss a beat.  He raised his eyebrows politely and smiled.

"Really?  I should be very interested to learn of your sources – especially as I have no idea what you are talking about."  Draco sneered.

"It's no use trying to hide, father." he replied derisively. "Not after you rang the alarm bells yourself."

"What?" Lucius was surprised.  Draco raised one eyebrow.

"You mean you didn't realise?  My dear father, your damage limitation exercise merely served to add fuel to the fire." he grinned.  "I suspect you're regretting taking such drastic action with regard to Cavendish: he certainly knew too much, but muggle lawyers who have a working knowledge of magic are very difficult to find."  With obvious effort, Lucius strained his mouth into some semblance of a smile.

"Now, now, Draco." he began in a would-be genial tone. "You're overwrought, half-starved and exhausted.  What you need is a good rest with someone to look after you, pamper you, sort out all your troubles.  What do you say?  Shall we let bygones be bygones?  You can come home, have your old suite and your old job – no recriminations.  I've missed you, lad; it's been lonely at Malfoy Manor on my own."  Draco's jaw hung slack with amazement; he made a show of closing it with one hand.

"Well, now I've heard _everything!_" he muttered.

"Come home, eh?" he said out loud.  "To my old room?  Surely you must mean the one in the dungeons, where I was manacled and shackled to the wall – eh, father?"  He laughed, a high-pitched, brittle sound.

"I'll give you the same answer I gave Pettigrew when he tried to strike a deal with me."  Lucius' eyes narrowed but he said nothing.

"I told him it was pointless because there was no way you would ever take me back." Draco smiled easily.  "I told him that even if you swore an oath to preserve my life, I would still refuse to have any further dealings with you.  It's not that I don't trust you, father dear, it's that I would prefer not to wake up one morning with your oath between my shoulderblades."  Lucius frowned mightily.

"You're being a good deal too clever for your own good, boy!" he snapped.  "Pettigrew's in a high-security muggle prison now.  I suppose you helped to put him there, eh?"

Despite the tense situation, Fred blinked in puzzlement and tried to exchange a glance with Sirius.  _Where did Lucius get that little piece of information?_  He thought curiously, but the argument between Draco and his father was rising in intensity, and Fred filed the snippet of information away for later perusal.

"I really don't know what you're talking about." Draco's tone was polite but bored, with more than a hint of steel.  "Frankly, father, I would have dismissed this whole thing as my imagination working overtime – if you hadn't left a trail of death and destruction behind you that made the war against You-Know-Who look like a Sunday School picnic."  Lucius smiled savagely.

"I wondered if you were trying to meddle in things that are none of your concern, boy," he snarled, "Now I'm sure of it.  You got more than you should have out of Cavendish – I'm glad Pettigrew's wand slipped."

"I want the truth!" Draco's voice was slipping higher with tension.  "I'm tired of playing games, father.  You may have disowned me, but you owe me an explanation of why my childhood was such a disaster.  _What happened to my mother and sister?_"

"I owe you nothing!" Lucius had lost his temper.  "You are a worthless, pointless piece of garbage!  I spend my life training an heir to follow in my footsteps, and what do I get?  A useless, bungling waste of air who can't even cast an accurate enslavement curse.  Get out of my sight!  Never offend my presence again!  _Avada Kedavra!_"  Lucius almost threw his wand in Draco's direction, so keen was he to rid himself of this persistent nuisance.  Draco, however, had been on the balls of his feet for quite some time and threw himself to the ground.  The curse bounced harmlessly off a tree, burying itself in the packed earth.  Rolling behind a bush, Draco took careful aim.

"_Conflagrato!_ "  He shouted.  A stream of orange fire belched out of his wand; Lucius screamed as the flames scorched his left side.  MacNair leaped quickly to Lucius' aid.  Battle was joined.

~oo0oo~

The next mirror was fully six feet high; its frame was heavy, but plain, unadorned mahogany.  With a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, Harry and Ginny peered carefully into its depths.

Harry gave a startled exclamation and took a step backwards as a familiar figure in a decorative dress swam into view, smiling as serenely as ever.

"Good day to you, Harry Potter, Virginia Weasley." said a well-known voice.  "You have done well to get so far.  Throughout history, few have achieved as much."

"The Fat Lady!" breathed Ginny, staring with wide eyes.  The figure bowed, smiling gently.

"In a manner of speaking." she replied composedly.  "Now that you have reached this point in your journey, I am able to speak with you directly."

"You are the guardian of this place?" Harry asked.  She shook her head.

"Not exactly." she responded.  "I am a part of the Old Magic.  I take this form because it is familiar to you and for no other reason."

"Just a moment." Harry held up his hand. "Please.  I have often wondered since coming here – the Old Magic of Bali, the High Magic of Stonehenge – are these things related?"

"They are the same," said the Fat Lady nodding, "or rather, they are both part of the one.  Mortal wizards give them these names that they might understand them on their own plane."

"So we're on a different plane right now?" Ginny's voice quavered slightly.  The Fat Lady smiled reassuringly.

"Yes," she said, "but you are quite safe.  You are here to achieve a Joining – something that has not occurred with any great strength since the days of Merlin and Morgan le Fey.  Individually, your talents are very great, although you, Virginia, have yet to come into your full powers.  In order to achieve a workable Joining, there must be nothing hidden, nothing kept back.  This is something you have already learned by traversing the corridor thus far.  Your knowledge enables me to speak with you now."

"What must we do to achieve a full Joining?"  It was Harry speaking again.  The Fat Lady bowed her head.

"You must continue with your journey." she replied.  "The images will come very much faster now, and you will find your minds expanding as the memories of another life are played into your consciousness.  _Do not fight the process!_  The more resistance the Old Magic encounters, the less complete will be the Joining between you."  Ginny was shaking her head.

"Is there no kind of preparation we can perform that will help us?" she asked.  "Frankly, I'm scared.  I'm terrified of what's going to happen, and I'm even more frightened of the consequences!"  The Fat Lady's features softened.

"You are wise to admit to your misgivings," she told her, "and because you have asked this of me, I am at liberty to give you some small assistance."  She paused and fixed both of them with a strangely intense gaze.

"You have already disclosed many inner secrets to each other," she told them, "but not your deepest and most tightly held ones – the parts of you which you perhaps do not understand yourselves.  In both of you there are places that have yet to be breached.  If you continue down the corridor, you will expose those areas to each other, revealing things you would perhaps rather remained hidden forever.  

"The decision to take this path is not an easy one." she continued.  "Your journey through this place may be long or short, wide or narrow, easy or difficult, happy or sad – or indeed all of these things.  Should you leave the corridor before the end, your Joining will only be partial and will be so until the ends of your lives.  There is only ever one opportunity to complete this process.  What is achieved here is final.  Fare you well, travellers; have courage."  The Fat Lady bowed her head in benediction.

~oo0oo~

Harry had almost reached overload.  It was as though the whole of Ginny's life, joys and heartaches, successes and failures, problems and resolutions had been downloaded into his brain at great speed.  He was reeling with informational indigestion and his emotions were on a seesaw.  Not only was he now in possession of Ginny's life history, he also shared her emotional reactions to each event, day to day, as it came.  He felt as if his entire character had been read like a book from cover to cover, and then interleafed with a different book, changing its meaning utterly.

He had also been obliged to face up to and accept some of the less desirable traits in his own character, and, more to the point, to do the same for Ginny.

Ginny's pitiful lack of self-confidence was exposed to him in all its frailty.  Her tough, self-sufficiency was revealed as the fragile shell it had always been.  Beneath it was a mixture of a certain selfishness – the result of being the youngest in a large family and, to boot, the only girl – and also a general suspicion of the world, a reluctance to trust fully.  Harry uncovered an intense disappointment in, and resentment against, the difficulties she had experienced in her magical development, and a compensating over-valuation of her musical talents that, while certainly worthwhile, were in no way comparable to her abilities as a sorceress.  There was resentment, too, of Harry's own massive powers, as though his legendary gifts somehow downgraded her more modest achievements.  

Heavily protected and most difficult to fully expose was her confusion over her feelings for Harry.  She was still aggrieved, even now, at his desertion of her, his denial of his love for her for so long.  Her bitterest emotions were reserved for her fears that she was still making the running, despite Harry's apparent devotion.  Her knowledge that magic would always be the most important thing in Harry's life had eaten away further at her self-image until it formed the subconscious hope that the Joining would in fact fail.  This way she would neither have to compete with Harry, nor face having the true inequality of their relationship exposed.

Yet harder to bear was facing up to his own character defects.  Harry had never realised how his calm detachment had appeared to others until he was faced with it, with no opportunity to reason it away or hide behind it.  His essential solitariness made getting close to him a difficult task, he now realised.  His initial embarrassment at the massive scope of his magical talent had hardened into an aloofness which compensated for a constant feeling of failure, an inability to measure up to his own exacting standards.  To others, he realised, this came over as the kindliness of a genius trying to descend to the level of normal people and not quite managing it.

Harry was essentially a one-woman man.  He had been sincere and indeed serious about Cho Chang, but their relationship had entered waters it should have been content to bypass.  Their physical liaison had progressed further than their emotional commitment and consequently when she died, Harry had been left with guilt as well as sorrow.  His love for Ron as a friend had made him overlook the very real feelings he had always nurtured for his little sister, made him dismiss as brotherly what were in reality the emotions of a lover.  Harry's guilt over Cho's death had been transferred very early on to Ginny; the danger that had been a way of life for him for many years suddenly seemed uncomfortably close to home.  Having become accustomed to protecting her, Harry could see the difficulty he had always felt in accepting Ginny as his peer.  A small part of him also wanted the Joining to fail, so that he could carry on protecting her himself and not expose her to the dangers an equal relationship would necessarily entail.

He cried out in the agony of self-knowledge, then found himself holding Ginny close to his chest, as though if he let her go she would disappear forever.  He kissed her hard, feeling her fervent response through to his bones, then reality shifted once again.  

The Fat Lady smiled serenely.

"Welcome once more." she said.  "Your Joining is complete."

"Just a moment." Ginny pushed loose tendrils of hair from her face.  "Do you mean that it's absolutely complete, or that we have just gone as far as we can?"

"It is fully complete." replied the painting composedly.  "You have attained the first true Joining for over two thousand years.  This is good news both for the Old Magic and for the rest of the wizard world.  I must now return you to where your friends and companions await you."  She bowed her head once again.

"Wait, please!" Harry sprang forward urgently.  The image looked up.

"Is there something else you wish to ask me?" she enquired serenely.  Harry nodded.  He swallowed on a dry mouth and cleared his throat.  Instinctively knowing what to do, Ginny put a hand on his arm.

"Albus Dumbledore." she began, with no preamble.  "Harry has shared this secret with me willingly, but we are no nearer any sort of resolution.  I believe that you can help us here.  Why did he not destroy Voldemort when he had the chance?"  _Ginny!_  Harry's mental tone was filled with suffering; his mouth twisted and he looked away.

The Fat Lady gazed at Harry's unresponsive form with sympathy.

"The ways of magic are sometimes very difficult to fathom." she murmured.  "Listen to me, my children, and I will explain as best I can under these difficult circumstances.  I have only a very little longer here with you.  Time flows differently in this place, but nevertheless I fear for the safety of your friends.  The strength of your Joining depends upon your absolute trust in each other and in the Old Magic.  I hope there is enough time."

Fixing them with her eyes, she began to speak carefully and rapidly, a slight edge of urgency to her voice.

~oo0oo~

One of the backup Deatheaters threw an ice curse.  By chance, it weaved its way past both Guru and Fred, heading straight for the helpless Syrinx.  Instinctively, Sirius leaped in front of the Seeress, neatly deflecting the curse into the bushes.  Katia stared wide-eyed at Sirius, then looked suspiciously beyond him at the beautiful blind girl he was protecting.  As her eyes narrowed, Sirius could see her jealous thoughts as clearly as if they were written in the air between them.  He wanted to deny any peculiar attachment to the Seeress, to protest the purity of his motives.  The logical part of his brain found the idea ridiculous, but the split-second pause proved his undoing.  As quick as lightning, Katia threw a stun spell at him which caught him a glancing blow, sending his wand spinning into the undergrowth.  As he dived for it, she levelled her attack on the powerless Syrinx.  Even while knowing exactly what was happening through her prescience, the girl could not suppress a terrified scream.

"_Liquefacio!_"  Fred roared in fury, pointing his wand as though it were a loaded gun.  Katia deflected the acid curse almost contemptuously, countering with a burst of raw power that lifted Fred clean off his feet, flinging him hard against the trunk of a tree.  A deep groan escaped him and he collapsed to the ground.  Syrinx gave a cry of dismay.  Katia turned to her for a third time and found herself staring into a pair of dark, implacable eyes set in a wizened, brown face.

"I am her father," Guru told her calmly, "and you may not harm her."  Katia nodded.

"So be it." she said between her teeth, and flung an expertly-crafted dismemberment curse at him.  To her surprise, he neither deflected nor avoided the magic, but generated a wall of mist around his body that seemed to soak up the power, altering its nature until the old wizard could absorb it into himself.  She nodded, a new respect dawning in her eyes.

"Not bad, old one." she told him.  "Perhaps you are a worthy adversary after all."  She raised her wand once more.

Sirius, scrabbling frantically around in the undergrowth, at last recovered his wand.  He made as if to get to his feet, but suddenly ducked for cover as a whirlwind vaulted over his head and began to wreak mayhem amongst Lucius' muggle companions.  Peering more closely, Sirius paused just long enough to see Mouse headbutt one of them to the ground, stamping firmly on his crotch.  Sirius winced involuntarily and turned back to his own situation; it was obvious the three muggle heavies didn't have a prayer.

Lucius Malfoy seemed to have come to the same conclusion.  Taking a moment out from his rather hit-and-miss battle with Draco, he aimed his wand at where Mouse was efficiently taking out the last of the three muggles with a volley of karate kicks.

"_Stupefy!_" he yelled, sending a stream of light into the melee.  Unluckily, his hasty aim proved true and Mouse collapsed senseless, but Sirius noted with satisfaction that all three muggles lay unmoving in various uncomfortable positions.

There was no time for sightseeing, however.  As soon as Sirius regained his footing, he was fighting for his life against a furious onslaught from MacNair and one other wizard.  He bit his lip; at least Draco was keeping Lucius busy, but the odds were not good.  Four against two – and one of those was Katia, the most powerful witch it had ever been his misfortune to meet.  Abruptly, the unknown wizard gave an agonised cry and stiffened.  His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he pitched forward like a fallen tree.  Both Sirius and MacNair paused, exchanging startled glances.  Sirius then watched in amazement as the other backup wizard, puzzled by his colleague's collapse, moved over to offer assistance.  He stretched out a hand then arched his back in agony and fell bonelessly over the other's body.

MacNair cursed loudly, eyes darting here and there, trying to trace the source of the interference; in one fell swoop, the odds had been evened up, and MacNair was always uncomfortable in a fair fight.  Propped against the trunk of a tree, scarcely even able to see straight, Fred managed a feeble cheer at having taken out two of the opposition.  His jubilation did not last long; MacNair threw a confusion charm at him and turned back to his battle with Sirius.

"I'll kill you, Black, if it's the last thing I do!"  Lucius Malfoy was beside himself with rage.  This little group of incompetents should have been easy meat; his own band outnumbered them five to three, not taking into account the muggle backup.  Now a surprise attack from that unknown black guy, plus the unexpected appearance and defection of Draco had thrown his carefully-laid plans into total confusion.  Not to mention the tirade of insults Black had heaped upon him – witnessed by his colleagues and employees, no less!

Having let rip with a bolt of lightning that sent his son and heir somersaulting senseless into the undergrowth, he threw a vicious poison gas curse at Sirius, chortling with glee as the latter dropped his wand, clutching his throat and making choking sounds.  MacNair raised his wand to deliver the killing curse, then took one look at Lucius' expression and lowered it once more.  Lucius was the leader of this particular little jaunt, and MacNair did not relish the thought of being in his bad books.

"_Crucio!_" Lucius increased Sirius' agony tenfold.  Nearby, Katia paused in her duel with Guru.  The old man was still standing, but his eyes were glazed and it was evident that the prolonged magical conflict was beginning to tell on him.  She glanced around then stared, her gaze hardening.  Lowering her wand, her face twisting in fury, she stamped over to Sirius' tormented body, swiftly pointing her wand.

"_Finite incantatem._" she intoned then turned on Lucius in fury.

"Is it not bad enough, our having to use magic in this place at all, that you must compound the crime with an Unforgiveable curse?  And for no good reason?" Katia was absolutely incensed.  If looks could kill, Lucius would have left in a pine box.  "Cease this torture; kill him quickly, or leave him for me to deal with.  Finish your business and let us depart as swiftly as possible.  I fear for our safety."  Her voice was edged with anxiety; her eyes darted restlessly around the clearing.  Lucius, however, was jubilant at having exposed what he saw as a weakness in her armour.

"What's this?  The Ice Maiden has thawed at last, and for her old crush once again!" he taunted, his mouth drawn wide in a feral grin.  "Oh, and just when I thought this couldn't get any better!  _Crucio!_"  Sirius cried out again, his body spasming.

"_Finite incantatem!_" Again, Katia neutralised the spell.

"Don't you _listen_ to me?" she hissed.  She turned to where Sirius lay face down in the dirt, breathing heavily through his mouth.

"_Flabrato!_"  Both Katia and Lucius turned their heads as MacNair, ever watchful, threw a wind curse into the undergrowth.  Draco gave a cry of despair, his wand spinning out of his hand as he was picked up by a vicious blast of air and flung heavily to the ground.  He did not move.  Lucius turned away contemptuously.

"What did I tell you back at the hotel, whore?" he turned on the woman, grinning maliciously.  "You were as easy to read then as the Daily Prophet.  You've never managed to forget Black – that's why you've persisted in this masquerade of chastity.  Oh, I wondered why someone as venal as you would persist in slighting me; after all, most of the worthwhile women in the wizarding world would jump at the opportunity to take a shot at becoming the lady of Malfoy Manor.  Even my mistresses rarely complain.  So it was Black after all!"  His smile widened.  "That will make it all the more satisfying when I do finally kill him!"

"You – did that for me?" Sirius was on his knees, streaks of dirt, saliva and tears staining his face.  "You refused him – for me?"  The dark woman tried to look away but found her gaze held by the eyes of the man before her.  They exchanged a long, private, intimate moment then, jerkily she nodded once.

"For you, Sirius." she said dully, hopelessly.  "For you – and for what could never be."

At this, something seemed to shatter in Sirius.  He stared up at her in despair and suddenly all the desperate love and longing caged away for so much of his tragic, misspent life broke free.

"Oh, Katia!" he breathed.  "Oh, my dearest love!"  She was shaking her head.

"It's too late." she told him tonelessly.

"No, no!" he started towards her, still on his knees.  "We can leave Mexico behind us, make a fresh start …"

"No!" she backed away, refusing to look at him.  "You don't understand; I have prepared my path in life, I have made my future.  There is no going back.  I've done some terrible, terrible things, Sirius; things you could never forgive, let alone forget.  _There can be no future for us_ – there never could."  

For the first time, a smile appeared on Sirius' pain-filled face; small and cracked, it was true, but nevertheless a real smile.

"Nothing is impossible, my love." he said quietly.

"Except your survival!"  Lucius Malfoy stepped between them, absolutely in his element.  His maniacal grin flashed around all who were in the clearing: the heap of unconscious forms to his left, including the three muggles, the two backup wizards and Mouse; Guru, swaying on his feet but still a going concern; MacNair, his wand gently circling, covering any sudden movement; Syrinx, standing mute, her hand in her mouth to stifle her screams; Fred, propped up again a tree trunk, his wand goodness-knew where, blearily taking stock of the situation; Draco, out cold, only his feet visible; Sirius, knowing he was facing his own death, trying to get to his feet; and Katia, her black eyes frightening in their intensity, her teeth bared with hate.  

Lucius stepped forward, waiting just long enough for Sirius to realise he was facing his own death.  The black-haired wizard struggled to his feet, sweating with effort.

"Go on then." he muttered between his teeth.  "You sadistic bastard, damn your eyes!"

Lucius Malfoy smiled a very unpleasant smile.  He lifted his wand almost negligently, and flicked it towards Sirius.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" he announced with consummate carelessness.  Green sparks burst from the tip of his wand, arrowing in on his helpless victim.  Sirius closed his eyes in the face of death.

Which never came.

What came was a dull thud followed by an agonised gasp.  Sirius snapped his eyes open to meet Katia's terrified ones as she leaped in front of him, taking the deadly curse in her back.  Everything from then on seemed to happen in slow motion.  Her wand arced gracefully out of her hand to land unnoticed on the forest floor.  The tension in her body gradually dissipated as each muscle freed itself from her conscious control.  Slowly, slowly she crumpled down onto the forest floor, until she lay, face downwards, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

"Katia." whispered Sirius in disbelief, then louder, hoarsely.  "Katia!"  He flung himself down at her side, lifting her, turning her body to cradle her head against his chest.

"My love – oh, my dear.  What have you done?" he whispered in anguish.  Slowly, almost lazily she opened her eyes and smiled a genuine, peaceful smile.

"Only you, Sirius." she whispered.  "Always you."  It flashed inconsequentially across Sirius' brain that she must have been a truly remarkable sorceress to block the killing curse, even for those few seconds, for now she was fading.  She lifted a tired hand to caress his cheek one last time, then her smoky eyelashes fluttered shut and the hand dropped nervelessly to the ground.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Lucius was becoming impatient; he lifted his wand.  Sirius looked up from Katia's body, his eyes wide and empty.  The depth of despair staring out from his soul was so intense that even Lucius Malfoy gave pause.  Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but there were no words.  Lucius pointed his wand once again.

Suddenly, a startled scream from Syrinx alerted everyone.

"The Tree!" she cried pointing, her sightless eyes wide with terror.

The huge tree was glowing with an inner light, a radiance that seemed to emerge from the very earth itself.  As they stared, it formed itself into an orb, floating away from the tree, growing larger by the moment.  Now it was changing, assuming a vaguely star-shaped appearance that morphed swiftly into the crude outline of a human figure.  Almost as soon as it had achieved recognisable form, the shape seemed to duplicate itself, sliding into two figures standing with joined hands.  One was tall and straight backed, the other smaller with long, flowing hair.

Syrinx spoke quickly and urgently.

"Listen to me, all of you.  Put down your weapons!  Wands, guns, muggle things – everybody, whoever you are.  If you have ever trusted me before, trust me now.  _Drop your weapons!" _

The group stared at her uncomprehendingly.  Fred, still groggy from the effects of the attack but as nearly a going concern as makes no difference, was the first to break the paralysis, instantly dropping his wand to the ground.  Guru followed suit a moment later.  Fred looked from face to face.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"  He demanded.  MacNair gave him a contemptuous stare.

"Do you think we're mad?" he responded.  "We've got you at our mercy.  Why should we drop our weapons just because some crazy woman says we should?"

"Please!" Syrinx turned her sightless eyes on the dark wizard.  "Whoever you are, whatever your allegiance, you _must believe me!  There is great danger here.  Your only chance is to disarm.  Please believe me."  MacNair laughed scornfully and turned to where Lucius was readying a final curse for Sirius._

Sirius, however, had not been idle.  His own wand had flown out of his hand some time ago, but Katia's had landed somewhere near him, he remembered.  While Lucius was distracted by the light, Sirius scrabbled around in the dust, trying to locate that elusive piece of wood.  Yes!  His fingers closed around the base – only to find his wrist immobilised in an iron grip and the wand grabbed and hurled away.  He looked up and was horrified to see Guru's impassive brown face.

"You must believe her!"  His breath was rasping.  The old man was close to collapse, but he held on to Sirius' wrist with the strength of ten.  Sirius had no choice but to be still and wait.

As they watched, the glowing figures raised their arms in perfect unison, pointing their fingers at the group in the clearing.  A swathe of intense white light sheared over the entire forest so swiftly as to be gone in the blink of an eye.  Abruptly, all birdsong, all animal noises, all movement of vegetation ceased.  Total silence reigned, but for a strange, high-pitched humming.

Sirius, Fred, Guru and Syrinx watched in silent awe as the taller of the two glowing figures turned to them and began to speak.

"I am a part of the Old Magic." he said.  His voice was clear, like silver bells, but quiet as though he spoke directly into the ears of each individual person.  "I am able to speak to you directly through your two friends because they are pure of heart and mind."  The smaller figure began to speak.

"Some others present here have defiled the laws of this place and used weapons and evil magic in my presence.  This cannot be tolerated and has been punished."  

"The two who sought the aid of the Old Magic have achieved their aim."  The first figure spoke once again.  "Their Joining is strong and will serve them well throughout their lives.  Return to your homes in peace – your prayers have been answered.  This place is now closed to you."  

Gradually, the unearthly light dimmed, faded and died altogether, leaving Harry and Ginny standing rigidly, still hand in hand.  As soon as the light was completely withdrawn, they both collapsed to the forest floor.

There was a shocked moment of immobility, then Syrinx darted from her place of retreat over to the two figures on the ground.  Taking Harry's hand, she felt quickly for a pulse, noting with relief that it was slow but steady.  Smoothing his hair back from his face, she was reassured to see his eyelids already flickering, on the brink of waking.  Fred was checking over Ginny in a similar fashion.  Still groggy from the confusion charm, he at least managed to envelope her in a bear hug as soon as she gained consciousness.

"I thought we'd never see you again!" he whispered to her with more genuine emotion in his voice than he had felt for years.  Smiling with relief, he looked back towards Syrinx.

"Is this the correct timeline?" he asked her.  She nodded firmly.

"The very one.  Thank goodness!"

Guru took slow, exhausted steps towards where Sirius was holding the unresponsive body of his former lover, rocking her gently, face buried in her hair.  Looking down at the younger man, the old priest laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, closing his eyes in sympathy.

"I grieve for you, my friend." he said softly.  At first there was no response, then slowly Sirius raised dry eyes to him and shook his head.

"There was never any hope," he replied in a curiously flat voice, "not really.  It was just a dream.  One that I could never quite outgrow, unfortunately."  Guru shook his head.

"She gave her life for you." he said.  "Perhaps her immortal soul is not now as damned as she thought."  Sirius nodded without smiling.

"Perhaps."

Mouse groaned, holding his head.  Blearily, he surveyed his surroundings then sat up straighter.

"Hey man," he said to no one in particular.  "We won!"  His wide white grin flashed around the assembled company.

"Uh, I don't want to put the dampers on this well-deserved self-congratulations party, but I was just wondering where MacNair had got to.  And my father, of course.  A small matter and fussy of me, I know, but I'd be happier if I could be sure my back was safe."  Streaked with dirt and white as chalk, Draco staggered back into the clearing, absently brushing traces of earth from his torn robes.  The others looked about them in surprise.

All trace of Lucius Malfoy was gone.

Of MacNair too there was no sign, nor the two Deatheaters, nor the three muggles, all of whom had been unconscious on the forest floor for most of the battle.

Syrinx was pragmatic.

"They brought evil into this hallowed place." she said severely.  "The Old Magic will not stand to see its dictates flouted, and its judgment is harsh."

"But what about the muggles?" argued Ginny.  She alone had felt some sympathy for their fallen enemies.  "They could hardly have known the consequences of using weapons here.  And besides, if any of you had been holding a wand at the time the enchantment took place, you would have suffered the same fate."

"This is true."  Harry was nodding.  "You all – even you, Guru – forgot yourselves in the face of danger so far as to use combative magic in the heart of the Holy Place.  I am astonished that Syrinx let you get away with it, knowing what she did."

But the Seeress merely levelled her blind eyes towards Harry and gave a small, satisfied smile.

~oo0oo~


	16. Aftershocks

Disclaimer:  _This story is written for the purposes of my own amusement and, hopefully, that of my readers, and no profit of any kind is being generated by it or by either of its prequels.  All characters and history belong to J.K. Rowling and to whomsoever she has licensed her creations at the present time.  I own the plot and the odd original character, nothing else._

**_Sorcerors' Endgame_** A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Penpusher Sequel to "By the Pricking of My Thumbs" 

**Chapter Fifteen:  Aftershocks**

Her eyelids felt heavy, her body pleasantly lethargic.  Judging by the air temperature, the sun was already high in the sky.

Not bothering to open her useless eyes, Syrinx stretched her legs, smiling as the body wrapped closely around her mumbled a sleepy protest before relaxing back into slumber.  So Fred was a snuggler – who would have thought it?  Well, if she were honest with herself … Her mouth widened from a smile into a grin; this was the right timeline, make no mistake, down to the last detail.  Letting out a small sigh, she offered a silent prayer of thanks to whatever higher powers had come to her assistance; none of the others would ever realise just how close it had been.

Still asleep, Fred muttered something incomprehensible in a foreign language.  Syrinx raised her eyebrows.  So Fred could speak Bahasa Indonesia, eh?  That should come in very handy when … Quickly, she cut off that train of thought; the time for Divination was over.  If she wanted a normal life, with all its surprises and uncertainties, she would have to learn to control her gift.  Sleepily, she mused on the possibilities.

A soft, feminine sigh followed by the gentle movement of a light body jerked the girl once again into wakefulness.  Using her ability, Syrinx scanned her immediate surroundings for anything untoward.  The room was familiar and pleasant enough, if a little Spartan: bare floorboards, sanded and waxed, covered with several colourful rag rugs; a large chest of drawers, sturdily-made with little in the way of finesse; and a huge wooden bed, obviously of the same manufacture.  The light linens covering the high mattress were worn and thin, flowing like silk over their limbs.  

The Seeress' prescient sight travelled to the foot of the bed to settle on two figures lying entwined in each other's arms.  Harry and Ginny had said little on the return journey from the Oldest Place, but their exhaustion had been palpable.  Syrinx smiled gently to herself.  They had changed, those two; something fundamental had altered between them.  She hoped their Joining was as complete as her insight predicted it would be.  The smile faded a little as her thoughts flitted to the other four of their number.

They had finally reached the little house in Denpasar at dawn.  Harry had told them, without explanation, that the Old Magic would allow them to Apparate out of the Holy Place with no consequence, but their combined strength had barely been sufficient to get home without splinching themselves.  Once there, badly needed rest was not an immediate option since Lucius and Katia had both independently trashed the small house into matchwood.  

Guru was so exhausted he was ready to lie down on the bare ground.  Seeing this, Sirius had promptly taken charge, raising the flimsy walls of the house and restoring them to some semblance of their former condition, leaving Syrinx to marshal the others into repairing the interior.  As soon as the house was viable, Sirius gently levitated Guru into his bedroom, leaving him to sleep himself out.  Syrinx and Fred then wearily climbed the stairs to the other room, followed by Harry and Ginny who assumed, quite rightly, that their presence would not be unwelcome.  Syrinx giggled quietly to herself: her father would never have allowed Fred to remain in his daughter's bed overnight, despite the young man's tiredness, without witnesses to their good behaviour.

The other occupant of Guru's bedroom was Mouse.  In the course of the evening's gymnastics, the muggle had not only been Stunned by Lucius Malfoy, but had also taken a gash to the head from where he fell.  Ginny propped her eyes open long enough to examine the wound and administer an analgesic charm.  She told him to watch for signs of concussion over the next twenty-four hours and ordered him to get some shut-eye.  

More or less physically unhurt, Sirius had brought Katia back to Denpasar for burial.  He placed her lifeless body reverently on the wooden trestle table in the living room, remaining with her in a silent vigil of farewell.   Her beautiful face was peaceful and at rest as she had never been in life, all lines of anger and pain smoothed away.  She looked very young, Syrinx thought privately, as though freedom from the stain of evil allowed the real girl to emerge once again in death. The Seeress' silver eyes grew worried; the one with the mark of the hound upon him had suffered a terrible loss.  His life so far had scarcely been easy, and this last bereavement had cut him to the quick.  

Her thoughts meandered once more then settled on the last of her companions.  The one touched by the dark - Draco.  He had uttered not one word since returning to Denpasar.  He refused to set foot in the house, but instead slept most uncomfortably on a stone bench in the garden with only his tattered cloak for protection.  Syrinx closed her eyes in concentration, examining the probabilities surrounding him.  She shook her head sighing inaudibly: the outcome was unlikely to be a happy one.  What could be done to solve the dichotomy that was Draco Malfoy?  What place did he have in the world now that his father was gone? 

As the Seeress pondered, Ginny sighed again and turned over, her eyes flickering open.  Quickly the other girl feigned sleep, not entirely sure why she did so.  Ginny lay a few moments gathering her wits then slid carefully away from Harry, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.  She bent to pick up her discarded clothes, slipped them on quietly and left the room; Syrinx heard her descend the stairs.  A warning began to chime in her subconscious.  Sliding out from under the bedclothes, careful not to disturb the man next to her, she padded silently over to the other end of the bed. 

"Harry." she whispered, shaking his shoulder gently.  "Harry, wake up.  I think a difficult situation may be developing here."

"Hmmm?" Harry, his body missing the warmth of Ginny next to him, had begun to rouse.  He yawned and opened his eyes.

"Shhh!" Syrinx lowered her voice to a whisper.  Harry blinked at her.

"What did you say?"

"I said there might be some problems downstairs."

"What sort of problems?"   Syrinx aimed her sightless orbs at him.

"Harry, don't jump to conclusions, but Ginny's gone out into the garden.  I can See her now – she's gone to talk to the other man, the blonde one, Draco."

"Malfoy?" Harry exclaimed, now wide awake and scrambling for his trousers. "What on earth would she want him for?"  Harry leaped out of bed, hastily throwing on a shirt.  Syrinx gave him an exasperated look.

"I was under the impression that you were the person most likely to know that!"  She hissed.  Harry blinked, then gave her a shamefaced half-smiled.  He paused briefly in a listening pose then shook his head.

"Can't tell." he said.  "She doesn't seem agitated though."  Syrinx frowned; Harry finished fastening his trousers.

"I'll just go and keep an eye on things." he said quietly, his hand on the doorknob.  On the landing, he almost collided with Sirius.

"What are you doing up so early?" he demanded in a fierce whisper.  Sirius shrugged.

"Actually, it's around nine –not early at all." he responded mildly. "I was vaguely dozing downstairs when someone came into the kitchen.  I saw it was Ginny.  I was just about to suggest a cup of tea when I realised she was taking some trouble not to let anyone know she was leaving the house, so I thought I'd keep an eye out from an upstairs window.  Is she in some kind of trouble?"  Harry shook his head.

"Oddly enough, I don't think so." he replied.  "Ginny's in the garden with Malfoy."  Sirius' eyebrows almost touched his hairline.

"With _Malfoy!_  Gods, we'd better get out there fast!"  To Sirius' surprise, Harry did not seem overly disturbed.

"She's in no danger." he said diffidently.  "Her thoughts are calm; very rational, actually."

"How can you tell?"  Harry simply shrugged.

"We are – much closer since the Joining."  Sirius snorted.

"Well, frankly, that's not exactly a surprise.  What has happened to you then?"  Harry considered.

"I'm – not alone any more." he replied, musingly. "It's difficult to describe, but I know Ginny as well as I know myself.  Nothing about her is surprising any more, nothing shocking.  She's talking to Malfoy because she feels – sorry for him."  Sirius gave Harry one disgusted glance then shrugged, contenting himself with spying on Draco and Ginny from the kitchen window.  Harry, totally unruffled, set about making tea.

A short while later when Harry offered him a steaming mug, Sirius seemed a little calmer.  He was keeping a very sharp eye on events in the garden, but so far he had seen nothing to give him cause for alarm.  Harry smiled, sipping his own drink.

"Chill out, Sirius." he told him.  "If Ginny's in any trouble at all, I'll be the first to know – believe me!"  Sirius turned to look at his godson.

"So – it was a successful Joining, huh?  Whatever that means."  Harry nodded.

 "Yes." he replied.  "The Fat Lady described it as complete before she returned us to our own plane."

"The _Fat Lady?_"  Harry laughed at Sirius' nonplussed expression.

"The Old Magic dipped into our memories, Sirius.  It used the Fat Lady to speak to us.  We went back to Hogwarts – well, kind of."  He clicked his tongue impatiently.

"I'm sorry, I'm telling this the wrong way round."  

He smiled and took another sip of tea to order his thoughts before launching into a detailed account of his and Ginny's experiences in the Oldest Place.  When Harry had finished his tale, Sirius was silent for a moment, gazing unseeingly out of the window.  He cleared his throat in an awkward, embarrassed fashion.  Harry glanced at him in surprise.  Sirius looked away, unwilling to meet his eyes.

"I don't suppose – " he began, then shook his head, "I mean, did you manage – oh, Merlin. I'm lousy at this!  Did you find anything out about – Dumbledore at all?"  Harry smiled.

"Yes, I did." he replied quietly.  "Sirius, you really didn't think I could just _forget_ what you told me, did you?  That so-called betrayal was the stickiest point for me, the last and final thing I couldn't let go.  Of _course_ I wanted to know the answer – I wanted it very much!"  Sirius shrugged.

"To be honest, I wasn't sure if you believed me." he replied.  "Hell, for a long while, I wondered if I believed it myself."  

Harry nodded understandingly.  Sirius fixed him with a gaze that was almost hungry in its intensity.

"Harry, I need to know this, whatever the outcome." he said slowly.  "This thing changed the direction of my life.  It almost destroyed what little trust I had left in the forces of light.  Please, Harry."  His godson's smile widened understandingly.

"There are several different kinds of magic in this world, Sirius." he began, taking a thoughtful sip of tea.  "There is the magic of the elements – of earth, fire, sea and sky.  There is the Old Magic – or the High Magic, depending on what you choose to call it and where in the world you are.  There is the Dark Side which fuels ambition and evil.  And there is the magic of people, of friendship and of love.  These are not the only sources, but they are the major ones.  All magic is constant, unchanging, never ending, never beginning."  

Harry paused and glanced into the garden to where Ginny and Draco were sitting on the stone bench, apparently in not uncompanionable silence.

"I had always assumed that when a wizard dies, his magic dies with him," he continued, "however, that doesn't appear to be the case.  Magic is not of us but of the world; we merely channel it, utilise it, divert it.  All magic goes back into the world, Sirius.  When wizards die, our essence is absorbed so that our power is not lost but reborn in other wizards."  

Sirius frowned, unconsciously rubbing the knuckle of his index finger over his upper lip.

"Magic is never lost from the world?" he replied questioningly.  "So when, for example, Nicholas Flamel died, his magic was not lost, it merely went into cold storage?"

"That's right."  Harry took another gulp of tea.

"But what about Voldemort?"  Harry nodded slowly.

"And there you have it, Sirius." he sighed, running a hand through his tangled hair. "The nub of the problem."  Harry turned away to stare out of the window.

"Voldemort, always Voldemort."  Sirius heard him mutter, then he began to speak clearly, his eyes still fixed on the horizon.

"Voldemort truly died, Sirius," he began again, "but he refused to accept his own death, or to relinquish his powers peacefully.  He was the most formidable wizard this world has ever known, but his talents were twisted, evil.  He suborned and perverted many less powerful wizards and branded them with his Dark Mark.  Such a Mark opens up a conduit between two wizards through which power can travel in both directions.  Voldemort only survived my infant deflection of his Avada curse by drawing heavily on these connections with his Death Eaters.  Those wizards kept him alive – unwillingly and helplessly, but still they nourished him until he could find a better way.  Then he broke every law known to magic: he performed a forbidden ritual to bring himself back to life – a kind of half-life, a twisted, painful form of survival whose very existence was an offence against the laws of our world.  From then on, he was no longer human.  He had already died.  He could not die again; he could only be annihilated, obliterated, wiped out.  

"However, somehow Dumbledore deduced that to destroy Voldemort would result in the elimination of a large quantity of the world's magic.  Once lost, it could not be reborn, and the magical world could not survive such a mortal blow to its resources.  So instead of destroying Voldemort, Dumbledore did the next best thing and banished him from this world onto another plane – a place from whence he could neither harm us nor gain access to this world. Of course, Voldemort tried to do both of these things, but Dumbledore had prepared for such an eventuality."  

Harry sighed deeply and raised his eyes to his friend.  

"He appointed us – all of us, including you, Sirius – as watchmen, as gatekeepers for this reality.  That was the real reason I was born – to oppose Voldemort, to know my enemy so well that when the time came, I could protect my world from his depredations."  Sirius was silent for a moment.

"So, as the former Death Eaters die, their magic accrues back to Voldemort?"  Harry shook his head.

"Apparently not." he replied.  "That link is severed by their death.  Their magic will stay on this plane – safe."  Sirius nodded.

"So I guess we know why You Know Who was so desperate to make his way back last year."

"Indeed: the longer he leaves it, the weaker he will be.  Not to mention that the two planes will drift further and further apart as the years pass."  Harry took a gulp of his tea and glanced out into the garden once again.

"So for once, Snape was accurate in his surmise." he remarked quietly, almost to himself.  "Only death will free those such as he, but by keeping the Dark One at bay, we can at least preserve their legacy for a more deserving generation."  

His eyes strayed to the window once more, watching the slender red-haired girl who was his whole world stand with one of his bitterest enemies, knowing that by his own actions she was safe – at least for now.

~oo0oo~

Weary, haunted, alternately dozing and brooding through most of the night, Draco had reached the limits of his endurance.  He almost missed the light footsteps on the path so deep was he in the mire of depression and self-reproach.  Glancing up, he sighed in defeat.  Anyone but her, _anyone!_  Her very presence strained his self-control to its limits – surely she could see that?

Draco stared at the ground for a moment, marshalling his remaining strength, then looked up.

"I was under the impression that, after our last little encounter, we were no longer speaking to each other." he drawled coldly.  "You've got nerve, I'll grant you that.  Most women in your situation would already be miles away – and still running."  Ginny shrugged without smiling.

"It's however you want it to be, Draco." she replied with no particular inflection.  He whipped his head around suddenly, eyes sparking.  

"_Draco _is it now?" he spat.  "I would have thought that the circumstances of our acquaintance were such as to eternally preclude us from being on first-name terms."  Ginny sighed, shaking her head.  

"I bear you no grudges: we've been through too much for that.  And there are no debts between us any more – I thought I made that very clear when I helped you break out from Malfoy Manor."  Draco stared at her with hungry, burning eyes.  

"All debts are paid, are they?" he spat. "Well, that may be the case for you, but from where I'm standing there's the little matter of a blood feud.  In the general rejoicing at our unexpected survival and also the success of your quest, it seems to have escaped the general notice that you and Potter killed my father.  I'm sorry, Weasley, but I can't just let that slide.  There's no way this wretched enchantment will let me harm _you_, but fortunately I am not under the same kind of restriction when it comes to him."  Ginny stared.

"You can't be serious." she whispered.

"Why not?"  Draco's voice was high with tension.  "Whatever he was at the end, the man sired me.  He also died violently.  If I ignore those facts, if I conveniently fail to uphold the honour of my family yet again, how can I ever hold my head up in public?  How can I claim to be a Malfoy if I allow my father's killer to escape without demanding satisfaction?"  Without thinking, Ginny grabbed his arm.

"Draco, you can't do this; he'll destroy you!"  

"Watch me!"

A spasm of total fury flashed across the blonde man's face.  Throwing her hand from his arm as though it were something distasteful, Draco flung himself from the stone bench, striding purposefully back towards the house.  He had taken a mere three paces when he stopped dead, rocking back on his heels in reaction; Harry stood before him on the pathway, still carrying his mug.

"Morning, Draco." he said mildly.  "Do you want a cup of tea?  There's some left in the pot."  

Draco looked from Harry to Ginny then back again.  His lips twisted into a grim smile.

"So that's how it works." he said softly, nodding to himself.  "This so-called 'Joining'.  You can hear each other's thoughts – is that it?"  Harry nodded.

"Part of it at any rate." he replied.  Draco drew himself upright; his eyes glittered.

"Well then, Potter, you'll have heard the relevant bits so I won't bother repeating myself.  Draw your wand!"  The thin length of wood was already in his hand.  Harry stared at it for a long moment then shook his head.

"Don't be stupid, Malfoy." he replied without malice.  "It's over, don't you understand?"  

"No, Potter." Draco was shaking his head violently.  "It'll never be over between us, not while we both live.  Best to get this resolved now, don't you think?  You know you're obliged to give me satisfaction under Wizard Law.  _So draw your wand!_"  

Harry glanced at Ginny, then at Sirius who had followed him into the garden.  The older man's eyes were grave.

"Harry," he said quietly, "I'm afraid he's right.  You and Ginny were responsible for his father's fate; you owe him a blood debt."

"But – but we don't even know what happened to Lucius and the others!"  Ginny's eyes were wide.  Sirius shrugged.

"I think the Old Magic made it pretty clear that anyone holding a weapon wasn't going to survive the encounter, don't you?" he replied.  "Lucius and McNair both had their wands drawn.  I guess we can draw our own conclusions as to their fate."

Harry lowered his eyes.  He took a deep breath.  Slowly, unwillingly, he released his wand from his sleeve sheath and weighed it lightly in his right hand, his face deeply troubled.  His opponent's eyes blazed with rage, then Draco did something so unexpected that Harry had to look twice.  For the second time in a matter of hours, he deliberately flung his wand to the ground.  Despite the use of excessive force, it did not break but merely skittered across the rough-hewn paving slabs, disappearing under a flowering mass of Bougainvillea.  He stood defenceless.  

"Alright then, Potter." he said, his voice tense with emotion.  "You have first strike – that's the law."  Harry stared wide-eyed, but did not move.

"Go on, Potter!" Draco insisted.  "I challenged you – you must respond!  Come on, strike me down!"

A multitude of thoughts and feelings suddenly coursed through the mind of Harry Potter in that frozen instant.  

Draco was the last of the Malfoy family left extant – Lucius' living legacy.  It would be so easy just to consign him to hell along with the rest of them.  No one would ever blame Harry.  And after all, what right-minded wizard would want to share a planet with the heir to the House of Malfoy, now that Lucius' real agenda had become common knowledge?  Malfoy had challenged Harry; he had witnesses.  The man was a dangerous criminal; everyone knew that.  Harry was honour-bound to fight the duel; he had no choice.  And Malfoy would die.

And he, Harry, would be free of the one person he hated almost as much as he hated Voldemort.

Abruptly, Ginny's thoughts and emotions intermingled with his own.  She believed utterly that Harry could never willingly kill an unarmed man; better that he should act dishonourably than commit a hasty deed for the sake of short-term safety.  And alongside these thoughts ran a thread of personal concern for Draco himself.  Her feelings were entirely disinterested, but she knew how badly Draco was hurting inside: she could see his emotional turmoil over the failed enchantment, his uncertainty over his family, his drive to know the truth.  The Dark Arts training had been thorough, it was true, but there was a place in Draco that had remained untouched, unspoiled.  It was less that there was good in him, rather that there existed a part of him that was not yet entirely evil.  

_I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't._  Harry's mind spiralled round and round, coming to rest on a hilltop in China many years ago.  

_Oh, Jacob!  I've lived for long years with your blood on my hands, knowing that you would have destroyed the world if I hadn't stopped you._  

He bit his lip hard then looked up suddenly, straight at Draco, skewering him with a long, intense stare. 

Physically, there had never been all that much of him to start with, but over the past few months Draco had become almost emaciated.  His cheeks were hollowed, throwing his naturally prominent features into sharp relief, and his collarbones jutted almost painfully beneath the collar of his black shirt.  His normally pale, translucent skin was marred by dark shadows under the eyes, which themselves blazed with a false, feverish fire.  For the first time, Harry realised that Draco was only in his mid-twenties; a young man, scarcely more than a boy, no older than Harry himself.

"What are you waiting for, Potter?" Draco shouted, teeth clenched to stop them chattering.  "Go on – do it!  Please, just – get it over with!  _Do it!_"  Harry could not move.

"What is there left for me, eh?"  Draco was almost beside himself with anger.  "What was the point of my miserable life?  I am a lousy dark wizard – I always was.  But what else do I have?  All my family are dead, I am the last of the Malfoys.  I can't even mourn my family properly; I don't even know who or what they were, how or why they died.  There is no one left alive who can tell me who I am.  Great Merlin, what a bitter heritage!  To die without ever knowing the truth."

"Many of us share the same fate.  What truth do you seek?"  Sirius stepped up to Harry's shoulder, his voice calm.  Draco turned on him a face of sheer despair.

"What do you care, Dog-man!"  Sirius turned down the corners of his mouth slightly.

"Not much," he admitted, "but, after all, what would it cost you to tell us?  You've pretty much decided on death.  What have you got to lose by giving us your reasons?"  Draco paused, irresolute, then his shoulders sagged with fatigue.

"Alright." he said. "All _right!_  As you were so courteous as to remind me, I don't exactly have a glowing future ahead of me."  The frail blonde wizard took a deep, shaking breath.

"My sister." he finally forced out, staring at the ground.  "My sister and my mother.  All I know about their deaths is what my father told me.  I believed him – all my life I trusted that bastard's word.  Until I discovered that my whole childhood was a pack of lies."  Draco sighed.

"And now he's dead, so is his lawyer, so is MacNair." he continued listlessly.  "Even under Veritaserum, Pettigrew knew nothing – I practically killed him finding that out.  There is now no one left alive who knows the truth.  No one."

"I do."  Draco slowly raised his head to stare disbelievingly at Sirius.  The older man stood relaxed but unmoving holding a steady gaze.  Draco's lip curled.

"You're lying!" he hissed.  "All you want is to get Potter off the hook!  You have no real information – how in Merlin's name would _you_ know anything about my family?"

"You're quite right."  Sirius was impassive.  "The only reason I'd lower myself to give you any assistance whatsoever would be to help my godson.  So I'm lying.  Fine, good; you've lost nothing.  In fact, you're really no worse off now, are you?  Harry can kill you and we'll all go home.  But what if I _do_ know?  What if I'm not lying, and I _can_ tell you the truth about your mother – yes, and Aurora too; what then?"  

Draco hissed at him.  He bared his teeth in an agony of indecision.  Sirius did not move.

"Free Harry from the blood debt." he urged.  "Free him – and I will tell you everything in my power to tell.  My word on it."  

Draco writhed in uncertainty then suddenly he staggered heavily as his legs gave out.  He flailed wildly for support, finding nothing within reach, until a strong arm wrapped itself around his upper chest, supporting his weight.

"Sit down, lad." said Sirius gruffly.  "Sit down before you fall."  Draco allowed himself to be helped onto the stone bench once again where he leaned back against the trunk of a tree, breathing heavily, feeling sick.

"Tell me!" he managed.  Sirius put a hand on his forehead, finding it unpleasantly hot and slick.

"Do you release Harry?"  His face was implacable.  Draco nodded feverishly.

"Yes, yes – anything!"  Sirius nodded.

"Heard and witnessed." he said gravely.  "Now, Ginny, would you kindly administer some kind of first aid to this ailing creature?  I'm also of the opinion that a square meal would probably alleviate most of his ills, so I think I'll just go and see about fixing one."  

Obediently, Ginny stepped forward to assist the stricken Draco.  She went about her tasks competently enough, but silent tears leaked down her face as she wielded her wand and muttered the correct incantations.  Despite the unforgiving hardness of the bench, Draco's eyelids fluttered then closed during her ministrations, and his breathing deepened into the natural rhythm of sleep.  Ginny turned to Harry to ask for assistance in transferring the young man to the house, but before she could speak he gathered her abruptly into his arms, smoothing her hair away from her face with exaggerated care, as if she were a rare magical artefact.  Wonderingly, she lifted a hand to his cheek.

"Harry!" she whispered.  "Harry, you're crying!"  He nodded, not bothering to hide his tears.

"I know, my love, _I know!_" he told her, meaning much, much more.

~oo0oo~

Draco's illness was more serious than was at first imagined.  His fever did not break for two days, despite Ginny's almost constant attendance on him.  When she slept, Syrinx took her place, bathing the young man's fiery skin as she watched over him, constantly examining and re-examining his possible futures.  Ginny was more relieved than anyone when he regained consciousness, but his strength had been overspent and it was another three days before he could leave his bed.

Meanwhile, the others also recovered slowly from their ordeal.  The very deep love and respect in which they held each other did not alleviate the overcrowded situation within Guru's tiny house.  As soon as circumstances permitted, Harry and Ginny removed back to their hotel accompanied by Mouse, although the three of them spent most daylight hours in Denpasar.  Both Fred and Sirius elected to remain under Guru's roof, each for his own personal reasons.

Sirius spent much of the long daylight hours exploring the island of Bali, on foot and on broomstick, and occasionally in dog-form.  He had been greatly impressed with the beauty of the wildlife in the area while trekking through the forest to the Oldest Place, and he spent much time walking alone or talking to the local people.  One morning, as he was about to set out, he came upon Draco wandering listlessly in the garden and impulsively suggested that he join him for some exercise.  To Sirius' surprise, Draco agreed with minimal hesitation, merely warning his prospective companion that his strength had not yet returned in full.  Sirius assured him that the going would be easy and chose his route accordingly.

They Apparated to one of Sirius' favourite forest areas, one that was recommended by the Balinese Tourist Board as a safe and easy stroll, even for muggles.  The two wizards walked for a while in silence until Draco's strained face and ragged breathing alerted his companion to the unpleasant possibility that even this Sunday afternoon stroll was taxing the young man's vitality beyond its limits.  They found a nearby clearing with a convenient fallen tree-trunk to rest upon, and Draco wheezed and sagged like a man twice his age before pulling out a black linen handkerchief to mop his face.

"Sorry." he managed to grate out.  Sirius stared.

"What for?" he asked in surprise.  "I don't suppose you did it deliberately, did you?"  

Draco coughed asthmatically into his handkerchief, trying to shake his head at the same time.

"I knew I couldn't cope with this," he said, when he had recovered enough to speak.  "but I had to get you on your own – away from all the others.  It's like a goldfish bowl back there in that house.  I have to confess too that the Weasley brothers have never been on my Christmas card list, and it just so happens that Fred is my least favourite – after Ron."  Sirius' lips twitched.

"Who's your best favourite then?"

"Charlie." was the prompt reply.  The other man frowned.

"Why?" he asked, unable to resist.

"I've never met him."  

Sirius nodded: he had fallen into that one with a vengeance.  Draco grinned at him mirthlessly.

"If memory serves me correctly, Black, we had a deal." he began. "When I released Potter from his blood debt, you agreed to give me certain – information that I seek in exchange."  His mouth twisted.

"Time for payment, Black." he said quietly.  "Put your money where your mouth was and let's see if it was worth the price paid for it."

Sirius bowed his head gravely, but his eyes were worried.

"I hope you know what you're getting yourself into here." he muttered.  "This is not a pleasant tale …"

"Get on with it!" Draco's eyes were bright, but his illness had long abated.  Now his fever was for the truth alone.

"Firstly," Sirius began, awkwardly, "I – I'm sorry for your trouble, Draco.  For the loss of your father, I mean."  Draco grunted.

"Please cease the condolences, Black." he interrupted flatly.  "They don't exactly ring true.  With a father like Lucius, his demise is more of a blessing than a curse, even to me."

"Nevertheless," Sirius continued doggedly, "he was still your father and the last of your family.  Whatever you thought of him, whatever he did to you, his death has to have some effect on you, emotionally or from a practical viewpoint."  Draco shrugged.

"I won't miss him." he replied with cold finality.  There was a pause as Sirius tried to work out how to continue.  Conversation with Draco, he reflected, was difficult and trying.

"You lost someone too." 

Sirius blinked then looked up in surprise to find himself the subject of a cool, searching grey gaze.  He nodded cautiously, narrowing his eyes.

"You knew?"  Draco nodded, his mouth quirking into a grim smile.

"Oh, yes," he replied, "we knew about you and Miss Valentin.  Of course, that was before she turned, but we were already working on her when the two of you were together.  When he sprang her from Azkaban, my father had some scheme in mind to use her to get at you – to make Potter more vulnerable.  I told him your relationship with her was a closed book."  He shrugged indifferently.  

"It seems his judgment was better than mine, as always.  That was one of his major talents – spotting potential weakness and exploiting it ruthlessly, both with enemies and allies.  But I digress.  After all, it's water under the bridge now.  She wouldn't play ball with him – in any way whatsoever, so I understand – and now they're both dead.  Any further speculation, however amusing, is pretty pointless, don't you think?"  But Sirius wasn't listening.

"Draco," he began uncertainly, "Do you know – can you tell me, well, anything more about her?  I mean, you knew her for a while, didn't you?  Or am I reading too much into what you say?"  Draco paused for a moment, staring fixedly at the ground.

"No, you're not reading too much," he began slowly, "but if you're hoping for a recitation of inmost secrets or a complete character analysis, I'm afraid you're sadly out of luck.  I didn't know her that well."  He furrowed his forehead in concentration.

"I met her during my training." he said at length, then gave Sirius a very shrewd glance.

"Where do you think the best Dark Wizards receive their advanced tuition eh, Black?"  

The blonde man smiled ironically at his companion's nonplussed expression.

"We have universities just like you do – or their equivalent.  We keep them very much under cover."  

Draco stood up, stretching his arms above his head, and paced the ground a little way.  He looked back.

"This was a training camp, Black, the like of which you'll never see.  Be thankful for small mercies." His eyes misted over, unfocussed, as he remembered.  

"I was sent there to learn advanced self-defence, the art of pain and resistance to the same, and the skills of entrapment.  Suffice it to say that I came out of it a changed man – we all did."  He paused, staring at the ground.  Sirius frowned.

"Do you mean to tell me," he began with growing disbelief, "that you took advanced study in … "

"Murder, torture and whoredom – yes, Black, exactly so." Draco was expressionless.  "And so did Miss Valentin.  She graduated with flying colours, which was more than I did, I can tell you."  There was a pause while he gathered his memories.

"The self-defence was hard." he continued with a small, painful smile.  "I was light and agile enough to escape the hardest knocks, and my Quidditch training gave me a small advantage, but nevertheless, there were a couple of occasions when I barely survived.  One or two of my team – didn't.

"The study of pain came easily.  My father had already schooled me well in the arts of torture, but the people at this camp – " he broke off, shaking his head.  "They left him standing; he was a rank tyro by comparison.  The trouble was, I really had no taste for it.  Ability and knowledge, yes, but my Hogwarts education had spoiled me for the finer points.  That problem was mentioned in my final assessment; my father threatened to give me extra tuition."  The merest suggestion of a shudder passed through Draco's slight form.

"What about the, uh, 'skills of entrapment'?"  Sirius' face reflected horrified fascination.

"The sex bit, you mean?  Oh, it's not as interesting as you might think; nor as pleasurable, actually."  Draco smiled sardonically.  "You see, in a natural world, the sex act is inextricably connected to a number of emotional responses – love, nurture, procreation, protection, family, security, stability, pleasure – yadda, yadda, yadda, you get the picture.  Well, the things they subject you to on this camp are specifically designed to obliterate any kind of emotional response.  To put it bluntly, by the end of the course, you're able to shag anything that moves, or indeed that doesn't, with equal skill and effectiveness, whatever your own personal feeling.  Indeed, even sexual orientation no longer has any meaning.  Physical or mental attraction to another person is completely irrelevant."

Sirius shivered.  Using sex for advancement was the oldest trick in the book, but this was something else entirely.  He couldn't believe that even Lucius Malfoy would condone such evil.  To systematically wipe out all trace of honest emotion and leave Draco and his fellow trainees with the conviction that sex was not for pleasure or love, but for manipulation and power.  As for the torture training – Sirius screwed his eyes shut against the involuntary pictures in his mind.  What did the Dark Side think it was doing to its young witches and wizards?  Was this the kind of thing Katia had been subjected to? 

Sirius suddenly sprang to his feet, vaulted the fallen log and disappeared into the bushes.  Draco raised a speculative eyebrow then grimaced mildly at the sound of dry retching.  Presently, Sirius returned wiping his mouth on a handkerchief.

"Can't cope with it, Black?" Draco's words were sarcastic but his tone held only bleak despair.  "I haven't even started yet.  Just wait till you hear how they did it.  Believe me, that's not one for a children's bedtime story!"

"Stop."  Sirius grated hoarsely, holding up a hand for silence.  Draco opened his mouth then closed it reluctantly.  The other man swallowed a few times then sank down on the log, leaning his forehead in his hands.  Presently he shook his head slowly.

"I never realised." he murmured, half to himself.  He looked up at Draco.

"Tell me about Katia," he said heavily,  "But please – no more about your training.  I've already lost my lunch – I don't want to lose breakfast too."  Draco shrugged.

"Weak stomach, eh?  Your choice." he said indifferently.  "Okay, then.  Valentin was part of my group.  She and I were the strongest candidates, to my father's everlasting surprise."  Draco smiled almost apologetically.

"You know what she looked like, Black." he said with an arch glance.  "No one set eyes on Katia Valentin without wanting to nail her to the floor.  In the early days, before the Entrapment Training, I tried to jump her."  He shook his head wonderingly.

"I must have been half out of my mind." he continued with a small smile.  "She slapped me down with no effort at all, then Stunned me.  When I woke up, I was pinned halfway up a tree with my trousers tied around my neck.  I didn't live that one down for a month."

"Did you ever manage it?" Sirius asked curiously.  "Sleeping with her, I mean?"

Draco shook his head.

"Not likely.  After the trousers incident, I asked her why she wouldn't let me bed her.  I had the arrogance to assume that the Malfoy name would make any woman fall at my feet.  She dismissed the idea as irrelevant; she said sleeping with me would serve no purpose.  I ventured the opinion that pleasure needed no purpose and she hit me, hard.  She gave me a backhander around the face that made my teeth rattle and told me to grow up.  She never had sex for pleasure, she said, it was a total waste of time.  Sex was there to be used for advantage and for no other reason."  

Sirius winced involuntarily.

"So you see," continued the other man with bitter irony, "she already had a distinct advantage over the rest of us when it came to Entrapment.  She already knew how to put it about without getting involved."  

Sirius sighed and buried his face in his hands.  _Oh, Katia!_ he mourned. _Oh my poor love, what did I do to you?_    He remained silent for a while until he realised that Draco was speaking again.

"What?" he responded, raising his head.

"I said that I believe you were the only exception." his companion repeated calmly. "Strangely, I don't think she had any ulterior motive for her relationship with you.  We were fully aware of what was going on, as I said.  Pettigrew didn't trust you, but my father dismissed her screwing you as recreation.  Something akin to a workout, I believe he called it, with the additional payoff of your potential defection to the Dark Side.  He also said she'd forget all that relationship nonsense once she'd been through her Advanced Training.  He was right, of course; nobody comes out of that with any finer feelings left intact.  I daresay you were the only person she slept with more than twice.  Not exactly an edifying epitaph to a relationship, but there it is, take it or leave it."

Sirius made no sign he had heard.  Gazing miserably into the tangle of trees, he allowed his mind to spiral backwards over the years.  Where would he be now, he wondered, if he had actually followed her and become a Dark Wizard?  He blinked, startled.

"What did you say?" He turned to his companion in astonishment.

"I said 'I'm sorry'."  Draco replied testily, his pale skin flushing a dull red.  "Don't ask me a third time, it's not something I say often.  Anyway, at least you can mourn her death.  When I think of my father, all I can feel is relief that he's gone."

"He was an evil man."  Sirius' voice was low.

"Of course he was evil, you pratt!  He was a Dark Wizard; we're all evil, or has that little piece of information just slipped past you?"  

Draco's irritation was sufficient to propel him up from the log and set him to pacing the ground once again.  Sirius shook his head.

"There are degrees."  His voice was thoughtful, strangely intense.  "You consider yourself to be evil, Draco, because you've had training in Dark Magick."

"Too right I have!  And not just any old training – extensive further education, I might add."  

With difficulty, Sirius swallowed but nevertheless continued doggedly.

"But even if you had become the most adept Dark Mage on this earth," he replied, "it wouldn't be enough to make you into a carbon-copy of your father."  The younger man was silent.

"Lucius was not just an evil wizard, Draco, he was a psychopath."

"Eh?"

"A muggle term."  Sirius had now joined Draco in his pacing.  "A psychopath is a being totally apart from normal humans, muggle or wizard.  A psychopath is antisocial, completely without empathy for others, utterly amoral.  These people are usually aggressive or criminal in behaviour, and they show little or no remorse for their victims.  I know this for a fact; I came across a couple of them in Azkaban!"

"And you're telling me that my father was one?"

"Well, I can't see any other explanation for his behaviour, can you?  Let's be honest, even Voldemort was more reasonable.  Face it Draco, Lucius was not only bad, he was absolutely barking into the bargain."

Draco was silent, deep in thought.

"I never thought to question his motives." he said at length in a wondering tone.  "I assumed that to be a Malfoy was to be a Dark Wizard, and that to be a Dark Wizard was to make a career out of committing atrocities."

"You were never given the chance to think about it." countered Sirius.  "I would be very surprised if once you left Hogwarts, you came across anyone who could be described as a normal person in the whole of your Dark Arts training."  

Draco's shoulders slumped momentarily as if in defeat, then he straightened his spine and smiled crookedly.

"So tell me, Black." he said quietly, his eyes wide.  "Tell me: who exactly were my father, my mother, my sister?  Why are they dead?  Why am I the last of the Malfoys?"

The older man gave a heavy sigh and sank down once more on to the log.  Presently, he began to speak in a low, halting manner, his tone at once bitter and full of regret.

"My knowledge of the Malfoy family is slim, Draco, I'll grant you that," he began, "but I knew your mother at Hogwarts.  Despite her membership of an opposing house, I knew her quite well; in fact, she was the only Slytherin I have ever been known to address without using abusive language."

~oo0oo~

Sirius had been a peer group leader in Gryffindor House, something of a role model for the younger students.  Old for his year and a fast mover, his emotional development had been streets ahead of his closest friends, Remus Lupin and James Potter.

"I was a bit, well, precocious." admitted Sirius with uncharacteristic sheepishness.  "I'd dated all the Gryffindor girls who interested me, and even some who didn't, by the time I'd reached the fifth form.  By the upper sixth, I was making midnight forays into Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Houses."  

He had fought shy of Slytherin for a while, but the inherent danger, the deep enmity between the two houses was an almost irresistible challenge.

Sirius was dating a Hufflepuff by the name of Miriam Mason when he met Draco's mother.  Miriam was a girl of gentle, tolerant temperament whose sheer affability had recommended her to a certain Narcissa Hemmingway, a Slytherin from an old family and of good standing among her peers.  The two girls became inseparable, despite a certain disapproval of their friendship within both Houses, and Sirius had been obliged to tolerate her frequent presence.  To his everlasting surprise, he found Narcissa a pleasant and even amusing companion.  When he realised that the Slytherin girl was occupying his thoughts rather more frequently than her Hufflepuff companion, he even gave some thought towards dating her, despite – or maybe even because of – the inevitable fallout from both their Houses.  He wondered volubly why the Sorting Hat had chosen Narcissa for Slytherin in the first place; she was simply not typical of the breed.

"She laughed at me." he told Draco with a faraway smile.  "She told me there was more to the Sorting Hat's decision than suitability.  Of course, I knew that personal inclination could play a large part in the placing of student, but I couldn't seriously believe that anyone would actually _want_ to get into Slytherin if there was any alternative.  She gave me a very odd look – I can remember it to this day – and asked what made me think that there was any kind of choice for such as her."

Later, when Sirius observed Lucius Malfoy making an obvious and inept play for Narcissa's affections, he laughed loud and long, despite the girl's apparent acquiescence.  Sirius' blatant mockery drove Lucius to a fever-pitch of fury which eventually erupted into a fist-fight in full view of Professor McGonagall.  Their unresolved differences and also the joint punishment they were forced to endure only served to fuel their already potent hatred.  Sirius' mind was by now made up; he had to keep Lucius away from Narcissa, whatever it took.  It was then that James Potter, always one with an ear for gossip, took him to one side and gave him chapter and verse on the Hemmingway family.

"The Hemmingways and the Malfoys were historically close, both by blood and by business ties – but I expect you already know that." Sirius said.  Draco nodded.

"They still are." he put in.  "Echo Hemmingway is a Durmstrang-trained witch in her late twenties.  I was destined to marry her."  He shuddered.  Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"Not your type, eh?"  Draco shook his head violently.

"Platinum-blonde, six-foot tall and built to match." he replied succinctly.  "Wrestles griffins in her spare time.  Ye gods, just looking at her would put any man off his stride; she could break my back with her little finger!"

From what James had told him, Sirius continued, Narcissa had been conceived for one purpose only: to make an alliance with the heir to the Malfoy empire.  Raised and groomed with an arranged marriage and a life of money and leisure ahead of her, Narcissa had merely gone through the motions, spending her adolescence in limbo, waiting for the time to be ripe for Lucius to claim her.  She had few unconventional thoughts; even Sirius was unable to inspire the slightest touch of rebellion in her.  Her family expected her to marry Lucius, and marry him she would.

And, of course, she did.  They announced their engagement at the end of their final year at Hogwarts and were married a matter of weeks later.  Lucius picked his time to deliberately overshadow Lily and James, whom he had hated almost as much as Sirius.  Sirius himself hid his grave misgivings about the match, unwilling to throw any kind of shadow over Narcissa's happiness, but he watched the couple leave Hogwarts with a heavy heart.  

"We weren't lovers." Sirius said reminiscently.  "Not even close.  Nor were we friends.  To this day, I really don't know why I cared about Narcissa.  I was never the altruistic type, even then."

He heard nothing of her for years.  Occasionally, he would catch a glimpse of her serene beauty in the society section of the Daily Prophet, but she was now, to all intents and purposes, a complete stranger.  He did not expect to meet her again.

It was purely by chance that he happened upon her fate.  On the run having escaped from the Dementors for the second time, trying to keep a protective eye on Harry, scavenging for food in dog form, he caught sight of her lovely face once again.  An old page from the Daily Prophet, used to wrap stale bread, revealed the title "Lady Malfoy's Illness".    Discovering that Lucius had packed her away with such indecent haste so soon after the tragic death of her baby daughter, Sirius defiantly visited her at St. Mungo's – a risky thing to do, considering he was still a wanted man.  

"She was totally changed." Sirius shook his head slowly.  "Haggard, terrified – she looked as though she hadn't slept for weeks.  I came to the conclusion that grief had utterly unhinged her.  I was about to leave when she suddenly realised who I was."  He looked up at Draco and his eyes were haunted.

"What she told me has remained a secret for many years." he said quietly.  "I swore never to reveal it, and in doing so now I am breaking that vow.  However, I believe that she would have wanted you to know what happened to her, how she died and why."

Narcissa was still lucid but terribly frail and ill.  She had not long to live, she told Sirius, and she had no hope of justice for herself or her family, but she needed someone to know the truth before she died.

Baby Aurora had been a perfect child; beautiful, smiling, sunny and altogether delightful.  She had been physically well co-ordinated and was evidently very intelligent.  On reaching nine months, she was tested in order to estimate the degree of her potential magical talent.  Narcissa was not party to this ritual, but Lucius brought Aurora home angrier than she had seen him for many years.  He then proceeded to consult numerous specialists in the field, but the opinion was the same in every case: Aurora had been born a squib.  She was totally devoid of magic and would never be any other way.

It was at this point in her account that Narcissa had become almost hysterical with grief.  Sirius managed to persuade the staff at St. Mungo's to let him continue to talk with her for a little while longer, but she was rapidly becoming out of control.  He managed to piece together a tale as horrifying as it was simple: Lucius, unable to bear the shame of having sired a child with no magical talent, had killed his daughter.  

Shocked and appalled, Sirius had promised to try to help free her and get justice for her daughter, but this only seemed to send Narcissa into gibbering terror.  She was by now so frightened of her husband that she begged Sirius to keep all that she had told him deadly secret.  Sirius repeated that he could help her, but Narcissa was too far-gone in despair to believe him.  Reluctantly, he gave his word.  A few days later, it was all over.  Unable to bear her hopelessness, Narcissa knotted her bedsheets together to form a rope and used it to hang herself. 

~oo0oo~

The silence that followed these revelations seemed never ending.  Sirius sat passively listening to the birdsong, watching the wind in the trees, musing on his friendship with a woman whose allegiance had flown in the face of everything he had held sacred.

"I knew that."  It was said in a hoarse whisper.  Draco cleared his throat and tried again.

"I think I've known all my life that my father had to have been responsible for my sister's death, I just couldn't admit it."

"And your mother's."  Sirius winced at his own ruthlessness, but Draco's quiet calm was unnatural in such circumstances.  The blonde wizard nodded once.

"And my mother's." he echoed.  He stood gazing upwards into the canopy of leaves.

"Nothing was ever normal at Malfoy Manor," he continued musingly, "but after they died, things were worse than ever.  I turned fully and willingly to the Dark Side because it seemed to offer me the security that I lacked.  Also, if I'm honest, I thought it might help me get closer to my father."  He sighed.

"What I didn't realise then was that Lucius simply wasn't capable of any normal human feeling.  There I was, beating myself to death, trying to be a worthy son – pah!"  Draco clenched white knuckles into the sleeve of his black shirt.  Already well-worn and tattered, the material gave way with a rending sound.

"I'd have had to have been born a potential axe murderer to have achieved what he wanted for me."  He stared uncomprehendingly at the torn sleeve then reached for his wand.

"_Reparo!"_ he muttered absently.

"What will you do now?"  Sirius' voice was neutral, unchallenging.  Draco shrugged.

"I don't have a great deal of choice." he replied bitterly.  "I'm a wanted man, both for my past allegiances and for crimes I did not commit."

"You handed Pettigrew over to the Ministry, that's sure to earn you a few Brownie points."

"Yes." Draco's tone was doubtful. "Yes, there's that.  But unfortunately, I'm really not yet prepared to go down that road."  Sirius stared.

"You mean you'd go to Azkaban?" His eyes widened in astonishment.  "For a group of thugs who would torture you to death for the sake of a little light recreation?  Draco, have you totally flipped?"

The younger wizard turned on Sirius, his eyes blazing.

"That group of thugs has been my whole life for as far back as I can remember!" he yelled.  "Do you think I can just shop them to the Authorities without a backward glance?"

"You can bet your sweet ass Pettigrew would!" countered Sirius.  "He'd hand them over gift-wrapped before you could sneeze!"

"I'm not …" began Draco furiously, then the fire in his eyes faded.  

"I'm not – Pettigrew." he finished quietly, shaking with reaction.

Sirius paused just long enough to ponder the likely consequences if he was wrong, then he took two strides and pulled Draco roughly into his arms.  At first the young wizard fought him, cursing and trying to push himself free, but Sirius held on inexorably until the struggles died and the first painful, throat-tearing sobs emerged.  It had been too long, Sirius mused; too long for a fragile spirit to go without any means of release.  What was to become of Draco now?

As he held the shaking body of his former enemy, Sirius felt hot tears spring up into his own eyes – for Draco, for Narcissa, for little Aurora, and also, finally, for Katia.

~oo0oo~


	17. Epilogue

Disclaimer:  _This story is written for the purposes of my own amusement and, hopefully, that of my readers, and no profit of any kind is being generated by it or by either of its prequels.  All characters and history belong to J.K. Rowling and to whomsoever she has licensed her creations at the present time.  I own the plot and the odd original character, nothing else._

**_Sorcerors' Endgame_** A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Penpusher Sequel to "By the Pricking of My Thumbs" 

**Chapter Sixteen: Epilogue**

They stood on the smooth curve of sand enjoying the feel of the breeze in their hair and the water lapping at their feet.  Mouse had produced binoculars from somewhere and was examining, with great interest, a flotilla of exquisitely decorated kites being flown with consummate skill and grace above an adjacent beach.  

"Hey you guys, look!" he exclaimed in excitement.  "There's an eagle – and a jumbo jet.  Wow – even Superman!"  

The energetic muggle had bounced back with energy from his mild concussion and had greatly enjoyed the past few days' leisure.  Ankle-deep in blue seawater, Ginny creased her brow, vaguely puzzled at the last comment; Harry smiled and shrugged his shoulders.  Neither made eye contact.

Sirius paused a short distance away, shielding his eyes against the bright sunlight, watching the couple curiously.  To the unobservant, it would appear that they were not communicating at all, but Sirius understood enough now to know that Harry and Ginny were conversing all the time, every waking moment.  He shook his head, admitting defeat; he would never be able to imagine a partnership so complete, so perfect that neither one of them ever need be alone again.  He wasn't sure he wanted to.

Harry turned, detecting some movement in his peripheral vision, and smiled broadly, teeth white in a suntanned face.

"Hey, Sirius!" He moved out of the water, walking towards his godfather.  The two men grasped each other's forearms in something more than a casual greeting.  Sirius squinted against the brightness, one hand pushing overlong hair out of his eyes.  For the first time Harry noticed some grey in the curly, black mass.

"So." The older man turned his face towards the wind.  "All the 'i's dotted and the 't's crossed?"  Harry smiled.

"If you mean are we ready to go home then yes, I guess we are.  We're just waiting for Ron to turn up with the Portkey, that's all."

"And you're taking Draco back with you."  It wasn't a question.  Sirius glanced about the deserted beach; the hour was very early.

"Where is he?"  In answer, Harry turned towards a distant rocky headland and pointed a finger at a diminutive, black-clad figure standing motionless near the shallows.

"He won't run." he said flatly.  Sirius nodded in agreement.

"He has nowhere to go."  

As if he could sense their regard, the figure raised its head, staring hard in their direction.  He began to walk back towards them.

"Is he any – well, _happier_ isn't really a word you'd associate with Draco.  _More at peace,_ I suppose, would be the nearest I could get?"  Harry shook his head.

"He's been holed up in his room here at the hotel for most of the time." he replied.  "He formally surrendered to the Ministry Authorities, you know – that's partly why Arthur sent Ron to bring us home.  Arthur's not happy about things back at The Ranch; he thinks Draco's presence might cause some kind of crisis, so he's playing his cards very close to his chest."  

"If Draco could be persuaded to co-operate, he might even live to take up his inheritance."  Sirius sighed.  "He's got very little choice, you know: if he doesn't talk willingly, they'll just use Veritaserum on him."

"They'll probably use it anyway." Harry's tone was bleak.  "Tantalus Brown's crew are a hard lot.  I don't think even my redoubtable father-in-law will be able to protect Draco for long."  He sighed then straightened his shoulders.

"Now that Pettigrew's been apprehended, you'll be given a full pardon, that's for sure." Harry smiled at his Godfather.  "The Minister will be quick to smooth things over with the muggle police, I'm sure of that.  So, when do you think you'll return to England?"  Sirius' eyes slid away from Harry's.  He turned to look out at the vast expanse of blue sea.

"Sirius?" Harry's uncertain tone forced a response from the other man.  Sirius sighed.

"I've just – got a bit of adjustment to do before I think about the future, that's all." he said, finally. 

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I've made a life in Merida."  Sirius turned to face his Godson and squared his shoulders.  "Oh, Harry, that doesn't mean I'm never coming back, it's just that I care about my job, my friends, the people I've learned to live with.  And, yes if I'm honest, Katia's family.  I need to take her body back for burial as soon as possible – her people need to reach some sort of closure."  He sighed and pushed hair back from his forehead.

"At present, my affairs are being looked after by a total incompetent." he said.  "I'm fed up with receiving panic messages from my associates.  All I want to do is go – home, Harry."  The disappointment in his Godson's eyes was almost more than he could bear.

"Hey!" Sirius put a hand on the younger man's shoulder.  "It won't be forever, count on it!  But I can't just walk out on these people at a moment's notice."  He laughed good-humouredly.

"I'll be back in England before you know it.  Pretty soon you'll wish I'd stayed in Mexico!"  Harry shook his head, unsmiling.

"Never that, Sirius." he replied soberly.  "Believe me."

Sirius' eyes lifted and he nodded over Harry's shoulder.

"Some family members coming to bid you farewell." he said quietly.  "I'll be back in a moment.  Just let me say goodbye to Ginny."  With a smile and a brief salute to the newcomers, he moved easily down to the edge of the water where he had to bend to receive Ginny's welcoming hug.

"I thought I'd leave you two boys alone for a while." she told him, smiling affectionately.

"You don't fool me for a moment, you know." he admonished her.  "I'm perfectly well aware that anything Harry knows, you pick up instantly."  She had the grace to look a little shamefaced.

"Well, at least I try to observe the niceties." she responded lightly, then nodded to where Guru, Syrinx and her brother Fred were exchanging greetings with Harry.

"I see Guru's looking much healthier." she commented mildly.  "He must be greatly relieved to be able to share the burden of protecting Syrinx.  "Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"So that's the way the wind is blowing, eh?"

"Oh, I would think so, wouldn't you?"  Ginny smiled, surveying her brother with affection.  She curled her toes into the soft, wet sand with obvious enjoyment.

"Ginny." Sirius put a hand lightly on her arm.  She looked up in surprise at his serious expression.

"Something wrong, Sirius?"

"No, no." he shook his head.  "Not really, I just wondered … "  His expression was curiously intent; she returned his gaze steadily.

"Are you alright about this, Ginny?"  He eyes widened.

"You mean, the Joining?"  He nodded; she laughed.

"Well, it's a little late to change my mind, if that's what you mean."

"It wasn't exactly, but I just wondered how you were coping with it, that's all."  

Ginny paused, her head tilted slightly to one side, thinking.

"Well," she began, "I'm not exactly coping with it – more that _it's_ coping with _me_."  She laughed at his nonplussed expression.

"I'm very happy, Sirius." she replied.  "All my doubts and fears about Harry, myself, our relationship, the future – they no longer exist.  I fully accepted him during the Joining – and myself, of course, which took much more effort."  She pushed back hair whipped into her face by a sudden gust of wind.

"It's still possible to be one person, you know." she told him.  "I can function without Harry on my shoulder the whole time, but where's the point?  He knows me as well as I know myself now.  And the magical possibilities – well, they're unbelievable!"

She smiled and took his large hand, roughened and calloused by an outdoor life, into her small, delicate one.

"You're kind and caring, Sirius." she replied sincerely.  "Life has not been good to you, yet you still think about others before yourself, despite the fact that everyone you loved has betrayed you or died."

"Except for Harry." he said.

"Except for Harry." she agreed.  "Sirius, please don't let the past destroy your future.  Katia was never really yours; she chose a very different road a long time ago."  Sirius closed his eyes against the empathy in her voice.

"We weren't aiming for a Joining, Ginny, just a partnership."  His voice was rough with grief and the words were harsher than he intended.  Her hand tightened.

"I'm sorry." her voice was a whisper.  He nodded, regaining a measure of composure.

"So, my dear Ginny, am I," he replied with a sigh, "but I guess I was lucky at that.  She was out for revenge; the logical outcome would have been a pine box – for both of us!"

Ginny made a small sound of sympathy and laid his hand against her cheek.

"We worry about you, Harry and me." she told him, her huge eyes shining.  At this understatement, Sirius could not suppress an unexpected smile.

"I love you both, you pair of idiots!" he said against the pain in his heart.  "I suspect you'll need even more looking after now you're Joined than ever before."  Ginny gave a rueful smile.

"That may well be so," she replied thoughtfully, "but the aggregate of our magical powers is so much greater than we expected.  We have enough strength to contend with anything the Dark Side could throw at us."

"If you could be persuaded to use it at all."

"There's that, of course." she replied, then looked up at him with bright eyes.  "You understand?"  

Sirius nodded slowly.

"You are the sum of all your parts." he said.  "Your joint ethics and moral standards together with your individual qualities of empathy and logic make you a very reliable repository for such immense fire-power.  The magical world would have to be on the brink of total destruction before you would, reluctantly, consent to use it!"

A soft splash followed by a muffled oath made them both swing round.  Draco was shaking water out of his sodden shoes.

"Didn't notice the tide was coming in." he muttered then looked up at them with suspicious eyes.

"Don't worry, I wasn't spying." he said defensively.  "Although the term 'private conversation' is pretty much a thing of the past for you now, isn't that right, Weasley?"  Ginny did not miss a beat.

"And a very good morning to you too, Draco." She smiled brilliantly at the young wizard, privately taking note of his worn and tattered clothes, his rake-thin body and unhealthy pallor.  She could hardly believe that this haunted creature had ever truly been Marcus Torrence, subject of her dreams, fantasies and fatal obsession.  Behind the small group, Mouse whooped with delight.

"Hey, Sirius!" he exclaimed, offering his binoculars to the other man.  "Just take a look at this!"  Sidetracked, Sirius moved over to him and squinted through the proffered device.  He frowned.

"Which way up is that supposed to be?" he asked uncertainly, adjusting the focus.  Mouse roared with laughter.  Ginny turned back to Draco with a barely suppressed sigh.  

"I realise that in view of our history, it's difficult for you to have a civil conversation with me," she began carefully, "but really – how many more times do I have to apologise for what happened before you finally believe me?"  

Draco stared at her blankly, his face creasing into a frown.

"Funnily enough, I don't recall you having any choice in the matter." he responded dryly, the mask of arrogant hauteur firmly in place.  "And besides; why you should hold yourself responsible for a situation I clearly brought on myself is quite beyond my comprehension." 

He held Ginny's level gaze for a long while, then unaccountably he flushed, eyes sliding away, breath exhaling in a long sigh.

"I would have enslaved you to the Dark Side without a second thought." he admitted in a low voice, his gaze anywhere but on her face.  "You were just a Weasley – just another muggle-loving, lower-class irritant not worthy of my attention.  Now, not a day, not an hour, not even a minute goes by without your presence in my mind, your voice in my ears, your scent in my nostrils."

Draco looked up, his expression an odd mixture of frustration and supplication.

"My search for my family history distanced me from my feelings for you – kept them in the background, gnawing at my consciousness, but never overwhelming me.  Now I know for certain what happened to my mother and sister, I no longer have the distraction."  

He sighed, staring off into the horizon and running a hand through his pale blonde hair, the gesture curiously reminiscent of Harry.

"The reasons behind it are irrelevant;" he told her, "the fact remains that I love you and I will go on loving you without hope of any return until I am in my grave; no questions, no let up – no remission for good conduct."

Ginny's cheeks flamed; she looked away.  _No, Harry!_  She refused his indignant summons outright.  _This is my problem, not yours.  Fortunately for you, Katia's attempted seduction had no such complications!_  She could feel Harry backing down, but had no time for any further conversation. 

"Draco, I'm sorry." she said quietly.  "I'm sorry it's turned out this way.  That's all I can say."  She sighed, swallowed then looked into his pale, tired eyes.

"I could have loved you." she whispered.  "In a different world, we could have been together."  A muscle in the side of Draco's mouth jumped involuntarily; he closed his eyes.

"Don't, Ginny." It was barely a whisper.  She held her breath as Draco slowly stretched out a hand towards her.  Lightly, his fingers brushed a wayward tendril of hair from her face then he smiled crookedly.

"Get out of here, Weasley," he murmured, equally quietly, "before I forget that you belong to Potter."  She had one aching glimpse of the naked longing behind the cool, grey eyes then he swung away from her, leaving her no option but to walk slowly, thoughtfully away up the beach towards Harry.

_About time too!_

_Please Harry._  She closed her eyes.  _Don't._

_I always was the jealous type, I'm afraid._

_I know._

_I'm sorry._

_I know that too._

Draco turned to watch her move over the sand towards the group around Harry, her leaf-green muslin dress billowing attractively in the sea breeze.  His eyes were as cold as the grave.

"Now what have you said to her?"  Sirius rounded on Draco, glaring down at him in outrage.  

"Honestly!" he exploded. "You can't be left alone for five minutes – tell me, do you get a kick out of being thoroughly unpleasant, or is it just habit?  And where do you get off blaming Ginny for your predicament?  From where I'm standing, it's pretty much a case of poetic justice!"  

Draco held up a conciliatory hand, silencing any more invective from the older man.

"A mistake, Black." he said wryly.  "There really is no point in needling her any further, I know that, but the habits of a lifetime can be very hard to break.  I made my own bed.  The fact that I didn't exactly get laid in it is no one's fault but my own.  My choice, my consequences."

"Which are likely to be fairly grim." finished Sirius with undisguised satisfaction.  Draco scowled.

"What a little ray of sunshine you're turning out to be, Black!"

"Just telling it like it is, Malfoy."

~oo0oo~

"So you're staying."  Harry exhibited no surprise at all.  Fred shuffled his feet a little.

"I know it seems rather sudden …" he began but broke off as Harry smiled and shook his head.

"I don't need any crystal ball to work _that_ one out, Fred." he replied.  "It's as clear as day to all of us that you've found where you belong."  

The redhead lowered his eyes, an unaccustomed flush staining his cheeks.  He was simply dressed in cutoff jeans and a baggy shirt, but Harry noticed that the fabric was Batik – the traditional Balinese dying technique.  Was this a deliberate gesture; a sign that his friend was "going native"?  Fred was speaking again, his manner still a little halting but no longer embarrassed.

"Syrinx needs protection, Harry." he said gravely.  "She is, after all, a true Seer.  Who knows how much Lucius Malfoy worked out, whom he told?  Great Merlin, the potential impact of her gift on the futures of both wizards and muggles is unimaginable.  I don't even trust our own side on this matter."  Harry nodded seriously.

"So have you resigned from the Ministry then?"  Fred shook his head and gave a quirky smile.

"I shall just disappear quietly." he replied.  "MIA is the stamp I want on my file, Harry – Missing In Action.  Which brings me to what I wanted to ask of you."

"Anything." responded the dark-haired man instantly.  "You know that."

"Yes."  Fred nodded.  "You know I can't go home?  At least, not till there's been an investigation into my disappearance and I've been declared missing.  It'll take at least a year for the hue and cry to die down, I realise that, but I can't face putting mum and dad through the wringer again; they've been through quite enough angst on my account over the years as it is.  I've already managed to get in touch with Dad, but it wasn't easy.  Would you be a conduit?  A go-between for me, at least for a while?"  Harry nodded soberly.

"Of course.  I'll devise a few sneaky methods to outwit Ministry surveillance, and I'll do my best to leave a few pointers as to the manner of your demise if you wish?"  Fred smiled.

"Sort it out with Dad." he replied.  "Oh, and Harry? One more thing: please, take this message to George."  He handed him a small, tightly-rolled scroll.

"It's not a complete explanation – that'll have to wait until we meet – but it's an attempt to arrange a _rendez-vous_.  George is the only one with whom I can have any possible future contact – if I take another identity, that is.  Trouble is, I don't have the resources to establish one and all my old _personae _are known to the Ministry.  George'll have to sort that one out.  Who knows?" he chuckled.  "Perhaps I might become one of his sources – that would give us some leeway."  Harry joined in the laughter, trying to ignore the growing ache in his chest.

Fred turned to look at the willowy, silver-haired girl who waited patiently, making gentle conversation with her father.

"Guru has kept her safe through a minefield of dangers over the years," he told Harry, "but he's had a long and difficult life.  He's tired, Harry; it's time now for someone else to look after her – and him too."  Harry gave a sad smile.

"I daresay you'll find pace of life a little slow here after London." he remarked.  Fred laughed.

"Don't you believe it!" he responded with spirit.  "I've been wanting to get out of the rat-race for a long time – just ask George.  My needs have always been simple – I've never really been one for material things – but I didn't realise how much a simpler life would appeal to me."  Fred shook his head in wonderment.

"For all those years I spent my waking hours unravelling increasingly more tangled webs, complicating my lifestyle with unnecessary intrigue, letting my work take over my own personal space.  Well, it's time to let all those things go.  I don't know if I've got religion or something, Harry, but for the very first time since I was a child I feel as though I've finally come home."

Once again, he gazed tenderly at Syrinx.

"Finding her was a bolt out of the blue," he continued quietly, "but since knowing her, I've been able to tap into my own powers a little more."  His face was alight with knowledge and understanding.  Harry shook himself slightly.

"Well," he replied crisply, offering his hand, "whatever your future together holds, it's certainly not going to be dull!  Good luck, my friend.  Send word when it's safe to visit – we'll be careful, I promise."  Fred pursed his lips.

"Save it for a few months at least," he responded, "but look out for a wedding invitation some time after the rainy season."  The redhead gave Harry a very old-fashioned look.

"Speaking of weddings," he said meaningfully, "are you intending to make an honest woman of my sister, or do such things have no meaning any more?"  Harry was surprised.

"Well, I suppose we'll probably get around to it sometime soon, if that's what the family would like, but frankly after the Joining, matrimony seems like a very small step indeed."  

Although he scarcely needed to, Harry looked round at Ginny to see her in conversation with Sirius and Draco.  A small frown creased Fred's forehead as he followed Harry's line of sight.

"Malfoy!" he muttered.  "What's that creep doing talking to her?"  Harry laughed and clapped Fred on the shoulder.  

"One thing this Joining thing does is take all the uncertainty out of a relationship." He remarked lightly.  "Something like marriage, I should think, only more permanent!"  Fred aimed a playful cuff at Harry's head.  Laughing, Harry ducked, but Fred's expression had turned slightly more serious.  

"How do you mean?" he asked.  "Can you actually hear their conversation?"  Harry paused, considered then nodded a little reluctantly.  

"It's as though I'm in Ginny's head and out here talking to you at the same time.  Simultaneously." he replied.  "I'm not forced to stay in contact, but she's still there on the edges even if I deliberately stay out of the way – like now."  

"But Harry – Malfoy?"  Harry shrugged.  

"I can feel her emotions, Fred.  She's not worried or unduly – stirred up, shall I say?  And besides – Sirius is there to keep an eye on things.  I really don't think I need to go over there and trash him, do you?"  

Fred's expression of deep disapproval did not change.  Harry sighed then a small frown appeared between his brows as he saw Sirius move to accompany Mouse and "heard" the changing tenor of Draco's conversation.  _Ginny, get away from him!_  He was astonished and furious at her immediate refusal, only to be abruptly chastened at her tart response.  _Okay, okay, I'll leave you alone_.

Harry swallowed.  Fred raised a speculative eyebrow.

"Are you 'talking' to her now?"  Harry grimaced.

"In a manner of speaking, yes." he replied.  Fred looked at him acutely.  

"That's a pretty powerful ability, Harry.  Are you going to let the Ministry in on this little talent of yours?"  Harry scratched his head ruefully.  

"Regretfully no, Fred.  I've had enough aggravation from various sections of that organisation to give me a serious attitude problem where Ginny is concerned."  He grinned suddenly.  "You'd be amazed at how limited the scope of this Joining can be, Fred, especially when Ministry officials are within spitting distance!"  

Fred smiled back, this time painfully, and reached out to pull Harry into a brief, forceful hug before turning away to hide the tears threatening to spill at any moment.  Sensing his distress, Syrinx took her father's hand and moved towards the little group, just as Ginny, herself not entirely composed, reached Harry's shoulder.

~oo0oo~

Sirius watched the group come together in mutual farewell but felt no desire to join them, at least not yet.

"So you're turning yourself in?"  This was addressed to Draco.  The young man absently brushed sand from his sleeve.

"In a manner of speaking, yes."  Sirius looked up.

"Draco, don't screw around with the Ministry – they don't pull their punches." he told him.  "They'll have you on Veritaserum before you can blink if they so much as smell any trace of a double-cross."  Draco's face remained composed.

"I've had a few days to take stock of my situation." he replied equably.  "I am also party to certain information which you do not possess."  

"Oh?"  Sirius raised his eyebrows.  Draco nodded towards the group along the shoreline.

"Back at The Oldest Place, my father made an error that Fred Weasley picked up on very quickly." he began.  "It was a small mistake, entirely due to the stress of the moment, no doubt, but nevertheless significant.  It concerned the whereabouts of Pettigrew after his arrest, apparently a closely-guarded Ministry secret known only to one or two people.  In fact, it was news to Fred Weasley himself.  He asked me how my father could possibly have known something so sensitive – actually he'd worked out most of it himself already.  When I finally came clean, he gave me the benefit of his advice."  Draco stretched his arms above his head.

"On a personal level, I can't stand the man, but he certainly knows his politics."  

Sirius was confused.

"Information?  Advice?  What are you blethering on about?"  The blonde man smiled.

"You missed it too?  So did Potter – and everyone else for that matter.  How very gratifying!"  Draco gave a thin, brittle smile.

"My father admitted to knowing that Pettigrew was not, in fact, being held in Azkaban, but instead in a high-security muggle prison." he explained.  "That information was kept very much under wraps.  Arthur Weasley was responsible for Pettigrew's arrest and Fred contacted him secretly to ascertain exactly who was in the know.  It turned out there was only one way my father could have got wind of it."

"A mole?"  Draco's reptilian grin broadened.

"Full marks for deduction, Black!  An astonishing feat for a Ministry employee."  Sirius ignored the sarcasm.

"So who told you?"

"Who's the mole?  Ah, now, there's the rub, the six-million-dollar question, the final piece of the jigsaw.  And that's what I have to bargain for my life and my freedom."

Sirius felt a cold shiver wriggle its way down his spine.

"Draco, have you really thought this through?"  The other's smile faded slightly.

"Unfortunately, yes I have." he replied more seriously.  "I realise that the next few days will determine my fate most decisively: I will either have paved the way for my eventual release from custody and freedom – or I will be buried somewhere untraceable, probably in the foundations of a muggle motorway, encased in concrete.  Our insider is something of a major player – the higher the level, the greater the danger."  He looked at Sirius and for the first time the older man could see fear in those lifeless grey eyes.

"Ironically, it seems that if I survive it will be entirely due to the Weasley family." he continued with wry humour.  "Fred has started the ball rolling, Arthur is trying to mastermind the situation in the strictest secrecy, and Ron is doing the donkey-work as my official bodyguard."  Draco gave a snort of disgust.

"The day I need a Weasley to guard my body will be the day I die!"

"Don't tempt fate, Draco."

~oo0oo~

It wasn't long before Ron arrived with the Portkey to return them to London.  He slapped Harry on the back and swung his sister into his arms until she begged for mercy.  Alternately scowling at Draco and beaming at Sirius, Ron's most fervent greeting was reserved for Fred.  Enveloping his brother in a bear hug, he held him tightly for a long time.

"We thought we'd lost you." he said quietly.  "We believed you were dead.  Only Bill kept the faith – he said you were too devious to be caught out that easily.  Mum'll be so relieved – she's still not quite convinced you're coming home!"  Fred caught Harry's eye over Ron's shoulder.

"Ah, Ron," he began, gently steering him to where Syrinx and her father stood smiling, "there's someone I'd like you to meet."

~oo0oo~

At last they were ready to go.  All the goodbyes had been said, explanations made, messages entrusted.  Harry, Ginny, and Mouse waited together with Sirius while Ron took a final, emotional leave of his brother.  Draco stood slightly apart, drawing patterns in the wet sand with the heel of his shoe.  

"Call me."  Harry said firmly to Sirius.  "Soon.  And come home, please, Sirius.  You're the closest thing to a parent I've ever had.  We've wasted half a lifetime apart.  We only ever come together when the world needs saving!  I want to do ordinary things with you – you know, play chess, go for walks, listen to music – that kind of thing."  Sirius was touched; he ruffled Harry's hair.

"I'll think about it – truly.  Take care now, and look after yourselves."

"Three … two … one … "  Ron's voice sounded strangely disembodied as the Portkey's magic spiralled out to envelope the little group.  The last thing Harry remembered was Syrinx's serene smile and her sightless eyes, the light from which pierced through to his very soul.

~oo0oo~

**Afterword**

A horseless carriage swept smoothly up the long drive, coming to a halt at the steps of a large and imposing mansion.  The carriage door swung open silently and a slender figure in a black cloak and hat alighted, his feet crunching over the gravel as he approached the entrance.  The slight slump of his shoulders and the almost exaggerated care in his movements might have given the impression of extreme fatigue to an observer.  A swift glance at his face would have confirmed that indication; pale and careworn, with lines and wrinkles more appropriate to middle age than to a man in his twenties, albeit one who had lived hard and violently.

As the man approached the stone steps leading to the front entrance, the huge oak doors suddenly swung inwards.  He halted abruptly in surprise, eyebrows arching high into his hairline as a diminutive figure stepped over the threshold.

"Welcome home, Master Draco." it said quietly.  The young man stared in incredulity then moistened dry lips with his tongue.

"Dobby." he managed to croak. "Is this some kind of joke?"  The House Elf shook his head.

"Dobby does not tell jokes, Master.  Dobby has come home too."  Finally tearing his disbelieving eyes from the front door, Draco turned slowly, panning his sight over Malfoy Manor, looking at it as though he had never seen it before.

"Home." he murmured, very much alive to the irony of the situation.  "Probably the only place I'll ever call by that name." He sighed wearily; the past months had taken their toll, despite the eventual satisfactory outcome.  He turned back to the diminutive House Elf waiting patiently at the threshold.

"I am the final generation." he said, calmly but with a dreadful finality.  "There must and will be no others after me.  This is the end of the line, Dobby; you do understand that, don't you?"

The wizened figure nodded equally solemnly.

"Dobby knows that as well as you do yourself, Master." he replied quietly.  "That is why we is here – Winky is coming back from Hogwarts just as soon as she is finishing her work there.  We will be looking after you."  

Draco's shoulders slumped; he shivered as he regarded the massive, grey edifice that was Malfoy Manor and shook his head.

"I will never understand my father." he murmured, half to the little Elf, half to himself. "The rest of my life will not be sufficient to work free of his influence.  Who knows how many of my forebears were like him?  Certainly my grandfather's reputation was fearsome; maybe his father before him was also mad – who knows?"  

He looked up at the Elf, his eyes suddenly naked, vulnerable.

"Are you my jailor?" he asked almost plaintively.  "Have you been sent to make sure I don't continue the family business?"  Dobby stared back expressionlessly.

"We is here to look after you, Master." he replied calmly.  "We will stay with you for the rest of your life."

_So, even after all this, it's still a prison._  Draco's mind briefly entertained thoughts of escape, but where could he go?  There was nowhere to run to, no one to help him.  He turned back to the house.

_It's full of ghosts!_ He shivered again, rigid with tension.  _Isn't it enough that my upbringing was so twisted I hardly know the concepts of right and wrong?  Isn't it sufficient that I can never marry or take a lover, save one who will always be denied to me?  That I can't even father children without the risk of bringing another genetic abomination like my father into the world? And now I am to be a prisoner here, in this place full of my father's atrocities.  And his father before him.  And back, back further along the whole Malfoy line._  

Draco leaned his head in his hands.

"Azkaban … Malfoy Manor – where's the difference?"  

"Master, you do not understand."  The little elf was distressed.  Draco was not aware he had spoken aloud until then.  He looked up.

"We is here to look after you, to help you."  Dobby continued insistently.  "We is under your command."  Draco's eyes narrowed.

"And who sent you here, eh?  Who is so charitable that they imagine I might need help from such as you?"  His voice dripped sarcasm, but beneath the surface was an underlying vein of hope.  Dobby's eyes flickered momentarily.

"Dobby wasn't told _not_ to tell you." he muttered, frowning in indecision.  "Dobby should not keep secrets from his Master, but …"

"Pah!" Draco spat disgustedly and turned away.  "It's Potter, isn't it?  Ye Gods, it has to be him!  Well, I can do without any more of his interference.  You can leave here now, the pair of you!  Get back into whatever hole you crawled out of – just leave me alone!"

"No, no, Master!"  Dobby was so agitated he started to dance about.  "No, it was not HarryPotter who sent us, Master, it was – it was the Mistress!"

Slowly the anger drained away from Draco's pale face to be replaced by a faint flush.

"Ginny?" he asked in a small voice.  The Elf nodded, pressing his lips together, afraid that if he spoke he might say too much.  Draco took a deep, shaking breath.

"Ginny." he repeated to himself.

_When you've reached bottom, you're only too grateful for scraps._  Impatiently, Draco silenced his thoughts and swallowed his pride.  Ginny cared.  Despite everything, she still cared enough to try to help.  And that would have to be sufficient, Draco thought, to get him through the next century, for they would surely never meet again.  Slowly, he raised his head.

"I'm – rather tired, Dobby." he said formally.  "I should like a long, hot bath before dinner."  The little elf inclined his head.

"Certainly, Master." he replied, the beginnings of a smile on his face.  "Dobby will attend to it right away."

And Draco Malfoy, last of the Malfoys, squared his shoulders, climbed the black stone steps and strode into Malfoy Manor alone – as he would be to the end of his days.

~oo0oo~

Ginny Weasley put the final touches to her makeup and sat back to examine the results.  The dark green sleeveless silk sheath with its high neck and figure-hugging lines was a little severe for a girl as young as she, but it brought out the depth of her eyes and complemented her deep-red, swept-back hair.  The gorgeous silk shawl, brought back for her secretly from Singapore by Harry, was a riot of colours, and the three-inch black stiletto sandals lent her a statuesque elegance not usually associated with the vibrant, quick-moving redhead.

She grinned, pleased with the effect: this was Power-Dressing in the extreme.  She would knock 'em dead at the Ministry tonight, and if anyone so much as dared to mention mind-bonds or the like, her glacier-like stare would lower the temperature by several degrees.  She practised the look in the mirror a couple of times, wrinkling her nose at the effect.

Rummaging for her evening bag in the chaos of her dressing table, Ginny's fingers curled around something unfamiliar.  Pulling it free, her lips formed an 'O' of surprise as she recognised the little casket.  It usually lived at the bottom of her jewellery case, but the box for her new engagement ring had taken up too much space, and the casket had been relegated to the back of the drawer.  On impulse, she reached into a small ornament, removing a tiny key with which she unlocked the little box.  There, nestling in its cocoon of silk, was the black rosebud Draco had given her, fresh as the day she had received it.  Her expression a mixture of emotions, Ginny lifted the tiny object free of its housing, holding it up to the light.  Then she gasped.

As soon as the daylight fell upon it, the rosebud began to wither; the petals dried and shrank, the stem thinned and the leaves shrivelled.  Before her widening eyes, the small token crumbled into a spoonful of black dust.

"Hel-lo!" An admiring whistle interrupted her thoughts.  Startled, she whirled around to see Harry wander into the bedroom kitted out in black tie.  So absorbed had she been in the mystery of Draco's little token that she had failed to 'hear' Harry approach.  On catching sight of him, she immediately forgot all about decaying flowers, gazing at him with wide, appreciative eyes.

"Ooh!  You always look gorgeous in a dinner-jacket!" She leaned into him provocatively, automatically straightening his bowtie.  He placed a kiss on her bare shoulder, eliciting a shiver of delight.  Grinning, he offered her his arm.

"Madam, your carriage awaits!"  It was true; horseless carriages had been sent by the Minister himself to collect all invitees to this particular jamboree, even those who had come by Portkey from far-off places.

Matching his smile, Ginny placed her hand lightly on his forearm preparatory to leaving the room.  As she did so, Harry glanced down and frowned slightly.

"What's that, Gin?" he asked, brushing lightly at a grey stain on her arm.  "It looks like ash."  Ginny looked down at the mark, her eyes thoughtful and just a little sad.  Then she rubbed a hand over her arm, scattering the motes to the four winds.

"It's nothing, Harry." she replied, grinning up at him.  "Just dust, that's all."

~oo0oo~

Fred Weasley leaned back in his wicker chair and stirred the overflowing pile of owl post with a negligent finger.  He looked out of the window to where the afternoon sun was reflecting off a blue sea and silver beach and sighed wearily.  Still, it had to be done, and once he had finished he could go join Syrinx and the others outside.

Life on Bali had wrought significant changes in the person of Fred Weasley.  While still lithe and rangy, he had lost the underweight look he had developed in the last few years and had put on a few pounds.  His face, and indeed all of his body that could be seen under his loose white shorts and shirt, was light golden brown, the best his fair skin could achieve by way of suntan.  His red hair was sun-bleached almost strawberry-blonde.  He wore it long now, like his brother Bill, in a thick ponytail.  Best of all, the deep wrinkles of worry etched into his face by years of strain had given way to laughter lines.

Fred laughed a lot these days; he had good cause.  But right now this pile of mail, some of it up to three months old, had to be attended to; owl post deliveries were erratic in Bali.

Thirty minutes later, Fred had sifted through the stack and sorted it into three piles: Professional, Personal and Pending.  The Professional pile was almost all relatively local, dealing with small jobs he had happened upon since arriving in Indonesia.  This one he attacked first and was almost halfway through, most of it ending up in the waste-parchment bin.  The Pending pile he disposed of in the usual manner – he heaped it in a tray in the corner of the room.  If nobody bothered him about any of it for a month, it would go the same way as the Professional stuff.  Pausing in his labours, he eyed the Personal pile; curiosity won.

Fred pushed his chair back from the table, went to the kitchen to refill his glass of pumpkin juice then settled himself with a nice view of the beach to open the only part of the delivery that really interested him.

The first item he opened was a scroll sporting a familiar firm script, addressed to a Mr. F. Underhill.  Fred winced as he always did: Ginny's sense of humour sometimes eluded him.  Deftly, he reached for his wand, drawing a complex symbol over the writing.

"_Retego!_" he muttered watching the letters rearrange themselves, jostling for position.  Settling back in his chair, pumpkin juice at the ready, Fred leafed through the three pages of family news, smiling frequently and occasionally laughing out loud at the anecdotes his sister related.  

Charlie's eldest, it seemed, had frightened the lights out of his parents by suddenly vaulting on to the back of a young Hungarian Horntail and flying it three times around the camp before landing it back in its pen.  Not bad for an eight-year old; Charlie claimed his hair had gone grey overnight.

Arthur seemed to be going from strength to strength at the Ministry.  His accession to Head of Operations, succeeding Tantalus Brown, was a popular appointment finding approval with both the young wizkids and the old guard.  Molly, unused to the kudos of being the wife of a VIW, had been uncertain what the Ministry expected of her.  Fortunately, Percy's wife Penelope possessed not only the relevant knowledge but also the supreme and sublime tact to impart it without ruining a, so far, very satisfactory family relationship.

Fred laid the letter aside to read again later in greater detail, smiling at his sister's signature; even after two years, she was still not totally used to being "Ginny Potter".

The second item was a rather battered, muggle-style letter.  It seemed to have followed him practically everywhere in the world, finally reaching Bali by dint, it seemed, of Hermione's thoroughness, judging by the redirection details.  Fred slit open the crumpled envelope; an engraved card fell to the desk.  Curiously, he studied it for a moment then his face creased in an amused smile.

"Way to go, Neville!  Well, good on you, man.  Hope you're doing the right thing.  Ah, well – at least she's used to magic, even if she is a muggle!"  He rose from his chair to pin the small card to a green baize board in the corner of the room.  The flowing script read:

Dr. & Mrs. Richard Birckhead 

request the honour of your presence

at the Marriage of their daughter

Valerie Jane

to

Mr. Neville Longbottom

on  …

The next communication was another personal scroll, but rather shorter than Ginny's newsy missive.  Ron's life had altered dramatically in recent times.  He had retired from Special Duties after seven years with a small pension, allowing him to work reduced hours in Operations along with his brother George.  The life of a Special Duty Auror was considered dangerous and stressful; few people remained in the post for longer than a few years, most burnt out after seven to ten.  Ron had decided to quit while he was ahead.

His greater freedom had given him time to pursue hobbies once again and Ron had taken up Quidditch, playing with his local team as Keeper.  He also seemed to be following in his father's footsteps, having taken on a consultancy with a firm specialising in customising muggle items for wizard consumption.  

Hermione was still extremely busy, happily mixing motherhood with business.  Mostly she worked from home and, despite the obvious demands on her time, she still produced better results than most of her full-time colleagues.

Enclosed with the letter was a photograph of the reason why Ron's life had changed so radically; a pretty red-haired little girl of around two years old, waved coyly out at Fred, clutching a fluffy white owl.  Yvette Weasley, Fred's niece.

The last scroll also contained enclosures.  As the parchment unrolled, they slipped free and fell to the floor.  Retrieving them, Fred noted that the letter was from his father.  Arthur was brief and to the point: the Malfoy Enquiry, as it was now called, had been concluded.  The fallout was less severe than it might have been, but as Fred no longer read the Daily Prophet, Arthur felt he might like to see one or two of the cuttings.  Also enclosed were a couple of unrelated items he was sure his son would view with interest, even if they were somewhat out of date.

Turning his attention to the cuttings, Fred grinned as he perused the first:

**3rd October**:  Swifts Do It Again!  The Singapore Swifts seem to be having their best season yet, having wiped the floor with three league teams in the past fortnight … looking forward to their much-publicised match next month with the Chudley Cannons.  … Manager Oliver Wood, formerly their Keeper, has appointed an assistant who will share tour duties.  _[See Comment]._

He slid the paper aside to reveal part of Rita Skeeter's weekly gossip column.

**3rd October**: …There has been no hint, but this newspaper is willing to bet that Wood's sudden yen for hearth and home has less to do with overwork than a certain Ministry employee.  Miss Julie Wu, subject of a controversial Ministry dismissal and recently reinstated, has been seen in his company frequently now for some months.  Speculation on their relationship …

Fred smiled, folding the two small items carefully for further perusal.  He then turned to a group of three cuttings clipped together by their corners.

**23rd November**:  Brown resigns!  Amid a storm of media interest, Tantalus Brown, Head of Operations at the Ministry of Magic, has left his old post to move sideways into Research.  Once hotly tipped to replace Minister Cornelius Fudge, Brown is philosophical about the move.  "I'm not as young as I was." he said. "It's time to use my brain now and leave the brawn to others."  Brown has been the subject of speculation due to his involvement in the notorious Malfoy Enquiry.  However, a Ministry Spokesperson assured us that the rumours had no bearing on his change of position.

Fred snorted and crumpled the thin paper, reaching for the next cutting.  This was not a news item but an editorial.  He scanned it closely.

**16th July**:  So Tantalus Brown, formerly Head of Operations, Order of Merlin 1st Class, has retired from the Ministry of Magic to spend more time with his family.  This announcement is scarcely unexpected, considering his sudden and abrupt sidelining lat last year from Head of Operations to a purely advisory position, but we at the Daily Prophet are still no wiser as to why either of these events should have occurred.

Perhaps dear Tantalus, who seriously blotted his copybook over his treatment of the famous Harry Potter (_DP September 19th_), has offended one VIW too many.  Maybe his Departmental performance was not up to its usual high standard (surely not!), or – dare I suggest it? – is it possible that he has come to blows with the Minister, the redoubtable Jeremy Wingford-Hill?

No comment has been forthcoming from any Ministry spokespersons, but a little bird did whisper in my ear that our dear Tantalus had over-reached himself in the empire-building department, not to mention his reported associations with a number of very unsavoury characters (all now dead, of course, and so unable to comment)._RS_

Fred found his mouth stretching into a wide grin: this was Rita's very satisfactory revenge for the all-too-frequent gaggings she had been forced to endure from Brown.  She had obviously not lost one fraction of her touch over the years.  He leafed quickly to the next item, which was short and to the point.

**20th September**: Obituary – Tantalus Brown O.M., former Head of Operations, Ministry of Magic, passed away quietly at home with his family.  His death was sudden but not unexpected following a long illness.  His work with the Ministry spanned four decades …

Fred re-read the last three cuttings thoughtfully, then looked back out of the window of his house towards the beach.  He could see Syrinx now, playing with some of the local children.  They were making sandcastles, building them quickly and effortlessly, just keeping ahead of a sturdy eighteen-month old boy who jumped on their creations as soon as they were finished, pounding them into the ground, shrieking with laughter.  The other children laughed too and good-naturedly continued to make them for him to knock down.  

As he watched, Syrinx rose awkwardly to her feet and swung the toddler into her arms.  Aware of his regard, she turned towards the window and smiled.   Fred's eyes lingered on her heavily pregnant profile; it wouldn't be long now, and Geoff would have a brother – or a sister.  He smiled back lovingly, shaking his head in wonder at his good fortune, aware that although she could not see him, she would know.  

He turned back to the cuttings.  He picked up his wand once again and flicked it lightly.

"_Aduro!_" he said firmly.  The pieces of newspaper burst into flame and burned away very quickly in the dry, light air leaving nothing but a stain of ash on the tiled floor.  Fred Weasley rose from his chair, leaving the remaining post scattered where it lay, and left his house to join his family in the sun.

Finis 

Oh, woe!  How on earth am I going to cope now this is finished!  Quickly – somebody tell me some loose ends and I'll write something else to tie them up!


End file.
